


The Art of Reading Tea Leaves

by evelynegrey, fortunefavorsthebrave



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynegrey/pseuds/evelynegrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunefavorsthebrave/pseuds/fortunefavorsthebrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If he were such a good person, he'd be in here," he smiles jokingly.<br/>"You know that house elitist stuff doesn't make sense, right?" It's a comfortably old debate, one they both know the outcome of, and Harry takes it gratefully.<br/>"Harry Potter was Gryffindor, is all I'm saying," Niall argues easily and Harry opens up his books again.<br/>"And Voldemort was Slytherin," he fills in with a smile. "But Romeo was a Montague, you know. A rose by any other name and all that."<br/>"What?"<br/>"Never mind."</p><p>Hogwarts AU where Harry decides to take Divination without his friends, Niall wants to get laid, Liam and Zayn are the dream team in Potions and Louis has a secret. He also happens to be a Slytherin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Reading Tea Leaves

Harry runs up the stairs of the tower, taking them three steps at a time. It really isn't his fault that he's late. Zayn tricked him into thinking the Divination tower was on the other side of the castle, and it's not like any of them has ever been up here before.

Once he reaches the top, he finds a small ladder leading up even further, into a dimly lit room that smells of heavy spices and weed. Everyone's already there, so there's only one seat left – right beside Louis Tomlinson, the Slytherin.

It's not that Harry's ever actually said a word to him, but he's seen and heard enough to know that Louis is loud, obnoxious and mean, like most of his fellow Slytherins. It doesn't help that he's good at almost everything and half the girls of Harry's own house seem to have a crush on him. In this class, however, he seems to be the only Slytherin who's bothered to show up and the truth is that Harry doesn't know anyone here either.

With a sigh, he takes the few steps over to Louis' table and tries not to think about how his eyes immediately turn towards him, sizing him up.

There's something unnerving about Louis, some aspect of his overall appearance that makes Harry very uncomfortable, but he can't work out what it is. He tries not to stare too much, because he knows that's rude, and drops his books onto the table, barely catching one that nearly slides off the pile. He's breathless and embarrassed because everybody is staring at him, but the teacher doesn't seem to have a problem.

"My, young sir, what a beautiful aura you have, welcome," she coos at him from across the room, and Harry blushes awkwardly. "I am Professor Trelawney," she continues. "We were just about to have some tea."

Harry watches confusedly as everyone suddenly starts to bustle around to collect tea cups from the shelves at the back of the classroom. Before he's even managed to stand up, however, Louis puts a pink and flowery one in front of him, reserving a plain green one for himself. Harry frowns at him curiously, looking at his frankly awfully decorated cup and back to Louis. "Thanks... How did you get it so fast?"

"I knew what we were doing first, so I just made sure I didn't get caught in the crowd," Louis shrugs it off, and starts suspiciously prodding at the leaves they're using, "this doesn't look like good tea."

It's not at all how Harry assumed his first conversation with Louis Tomlinson would go, so he just stays quiet, waiting for the other side to drop and for him to say something cruel. But he doesn't.

Instead, they get their cups filled and sit in awkward silence for a bit as they wait for the tea to cool down enough to drink. This close, Harry can't help but notice how very piercingly blue Louis' eyes are, not a single freckle or birthmark marking his smooth porcelain skin.

"You're not actually into this stuff, are you?" Louis says at last, and Harry shrugs, trying to keep his cool.

"It's interesting enough."

"Probably a fair bit of money in it if you're good," Louis comments. Harry has no idea what to say to that.

“I like the idea of it all," Harry admits when the moment draws for out too long, trying not to feel too unsettled by how much Louis is just openly staring at him. "You know, making contact with the dead, using old techniques to see the future."

Louis laughs, a beautiful sound that rings out across the room. It makes him look much more like a boy his age, and less like a muggle painting or something."Yeah, sure." There's a faint teasing aspect to his tone, but Harry is used to it by now, from everyone.

"So why are you taking it?" he asks bravely. "I don't see any of your friends in here."

"You know my friends?" Louis replies with a wry smile. Harry blushes.

"No, I mean..." He stammers, trying to cover his tracks, but Louis cuts him off.

"Seemed the easy option," he says nonchalantly.

Harry sips his tea. It does, indeed, taste a little dodgy. Louis does the same, suddenly pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain.

"You alright?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, just, the fumes," Louis mutters. "Giving me a headache."

"Hang on," Harry says, reaching for his bag. "Think I've got something for that."

"Thanks but it's not gonna help," Louis waves him off.

Harry drops the potion he was retrieving and looks at Louis again. "Need anything to help?"

Louis opens one eye to squint at him suspiciously. "You barely even know me, and you're trying to help me?"

"Well, yeah. You haven't given me an excuse not to yet." That, and it would be no use to either of them if Louis couldn't work all lesson, leaving Harry to fend for himself. It works in everyone's favour to help him instead. Louis shakes his head, putting down the cup and taking a slow breath.

"No need to worry yourself, I'll be alright in a minute."

Harry nods hesitantly and turns to his book instead, opening the page on Tessomancy. He waits patiently for Louis to finish his tea before they swap cups in order to read each other's future in the leaves.

"This looks like an apple," Harry says after some consideration, peering into Louis' cup. "Which, hang on, means long life. Well, that's nice." Louis looks at him suspiciously. "And this could be a hat. It looks a bit like the sorting hat. It means... That a new friend you'll make soon will turn out to be someone important in your life."

Louis just continues to look unconvinced, and Harry shrugs. "Well, you go, then."

"Okay," Louis smiles slightly and looks down at Harry's cup. "I think that might be a dog? So that's... Your loyalty is going to be tested by a friend," he sounds sceptical, but continues, "and that looks like a note from a music sheet. Apparently it doesn't mean your musical, though." He flicks through the pages until he finds the explanation. "It claims that a spontaneous invitation is gonna bring joy and happiness into your life. There's a sword, too, which means you're going to need to fight for what you want, which is within your reach." He sits back, and raises an eyebrow at Harry. "Sounds an awful lot like horoscopes."

"Who says horoscopes are wrong?" Harry smiles but stops the moment he realises that Professor Trelawney is swooping down on them, silencing the class with a wave of her hand.

"So tell me, dear," she says to Harry, making everyone's eyes turn to him. "What can you see?"

Harry swallows, glances at Louis, and then launches into an explanation of his findings while Trelawney nods along approvingly.

"Good," she tells him. "Very good, but have you seen this?" She turns the cup a bit, pointing at a lump of tea leaves near the bottom.

"It looks like an H," Harry says. Trelawney hums. "And it means, um..." He flips through the pages quickly, then reads aloud, "Refers to the first letter of a person's name; this person can help you or holds your heart."

The few in class that know Harry by name start laughing quietly, and Louis pointedly looks away.

"Does any of this make sense to you, dear?" Trelawney asks him, and Louis clears his throat, nodding a little and sighing. "Interesting."

Harry waits what seems like forever for her to move away again, and wonders what he ever did to end up being on her radar. Zayn is going to get it when they meet up again, for making him so late.

The lesson ends soon after, apparently the tea reading was just a taste of what was to come, and Harry pushes all his books into a haphazard pile to dump in his bag, eager to escape the room. Despite his hastiness, however, Louis' out the door before Harry has time to say another word to him. He wonders if he's angry at him, for saying those things out loud with everyone listening.

They have lunch next, and Harry finds his friends already at the Gryffindor table when he arrives. A quick glance towards the Slytherin table confirms that Louis is back where he belongs, talking loudly to his friends.

"I hate you," Harry mutters to Zayn as he drops onto a seat. "Trelawney made me read Louis Tomlinson's tea leaves aloud just because I was late."

"You sat next to Tomlinson and survived?" Zayn asks, ignoring his first announcement entirely. "Well, how did it go?"

"Did you not just hear me? It was awkward, and horrible. I was so late his table was the only one left. Stupid Divination." Harry sulkily grabs some food and starts eating it with all the grace and enthusiasm of a stubborn toddler.

"Well, other than that, is the class good?"

"It smells weird up there, and it wasn't on the other side of school, thanks everyone for warning me," Harry addresses the table at large.

"Oh, come on, it was just a bit of fun," Niall grins. "No harm done. Trelawney probably liked your aura or something."

"That's literally the first thing she said."

"Of course it was," Liam snorts into his pie. "You know it's a load of rubbish, right?"

"There was an H in Louis' cup," Harry replies for lack of anything better to say.

"So we're on first name basis with a Slytherin now, eh?" Zayn snickers.

"Must be destiny," Niall grins.

"Shut up," Harry mumbles sulkily. "Just because you're so lazy you chose Muggle Studies."

"Nothing wrong with learning about coffee machines and rubber ducks," Niall shrugs.

"Your parents are muggles!"

"Well, then, that just makes me a star pupil from the off, doesn't it?" Niall laughs, always so content with everything. "Besides, it's fun to see how Wizards deal with it. The amount of times I've laughed over these two complaining about bus routes is already off the charts."

"Not as bad as you trying to work out wizard money," Liam throws back teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Harry listens to them argue, finding comfort in how easy it is to forget everything else when he's with his friends. Louis is somewhere else, somewhere he doesn't have to be a part of his life, and it's good to know, because he isn't sure he can handle the strange tension between them on a constant basis.

It doesn't feel much different to be a fifth year than it did to be a fourth year, except for the new classes, and Harry's mostly just happy to be back in school, but as Thursday drags on and he's trying to memorise his new schedule, he realises that their last class of the day is Potions with the Slytherins and Louis will obviously be there.

“God, I hate Potions,” Niall complains as they're making their way towards the dungeons. “How come we have to be with the Slytherins this year? And here I thought it couldn't get any worse.”

“Don't worry, Nialler,” Zayn says behind them. “Harry has made peace between the houses now, remember? His name was in Tomlinson's cup.”

“It wasn't my name!” Harry says loudly.

A few of their new classmates turn to look at Harry curiously, and he ducks back behind Liam to disguise himself. "I hate all of you."

"No you don't," Niall answers easily, dragging him forward again so they can sit together in the classroom, already noticing their breathing show up in clouds. Everybody in the rooms seems at least a little bit cold, except for Louis Tomlinson, who's having no difficulties laughing and moving around, acting like he's in the great hall rather than several floors below Hogwarts.

"How is he not frozen," Liam asks quietly, but nobody bothers to answer, too busy trying to acclimatise to the drop in temperature. It's the same at the start of every class. Harry makes a note to dig out his thermal shirts to change into before classes.

As usual, Potions is a bit of a nightmare. Harry never has any choice but to team up with Niall, who's completely useless, and he can't help but notice how Louis seems to be the only one who actually manages to produce a proper Draught of Peace. Naturally, he and Stan Lucas are rewarded ten points for their efforts, and Harry can hear Zayn and Liam mutter darkly next to them. It's no secret that they despise the pair, since Louis and Stan are basically the only two students in their year who can compete with Zayn and Liam's brilliance.

Stan high fives Louis, and they act so familiar with each other that Harry can't help but wonder if there's something more between them that nobody outside of Slytherin talks about.

"Wish one of them would get really sick," Zayn mutters, "not, like, dead, but sick enough that they can't work together. Do them good to be taken down a step or two."

Harry and Niall exchange looks, but decide ultimately that it isn't worth pointing out how hypocritical that statement is in itself as Liam agrees with Zayn entirely.

It's still early into the year, so by the end of the day, everyone's a little tired from learning constantly and getting to grips with new classes, so Harry follows the others to sprawl by the window of the common room, books around him but likely to go untouched.

"So..." Niall purrs close to his ear, conspiratorial as always when he crawls over to where Harry is spread out on the floor. "What do you think of the girls this year? Grown up a bit over the summer, haven't they?"

"You're disgusting," Harry tells him, but turns onto his side so they can talk easier. "Got your eye on someone, then?"

"I was asking _you_ , tosser," Niall chides him. "I'm keeping my options open."

Harry scoffs. "And what are those? Is it between Liam's owl and Professor McGonagall?"

"McGonagall is a wonderful woman," Niall argues loudly, getting a few cheers from other students across the room. "Always loved when an older woman knows her own power."

"Oh my god." Harry shakes his head, knowing it's part of the banter but incredibly disturbed anyway. "Please don't even joke about that."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. But I'm probably not her type," Niall shrugs, reaching for Harry's Divination book idly. "But seriously, is there anyone this year?"

"We've barely been back. Bit early to say." Really, he's not interested in anyone. Girls keep asking him out, as do a couple of boys, but he's really not interested in any of them besides friendly conversation.

"Don't tell the other boys," Niall whispers suddenly. "But I might have a thing for Eleanor."

"Calder?" Harry asks incredulously. "In Slytherin?"

"Yeah..." Niall nods seriously. "She's not bad at all, you know, for a Slytherin. But I bet if anyone has a chance with her it would be Tomlinson," he sighs.

"Actually..." Harry says slowly. "You know Stan Lucas?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Have you noticed how they are together?" Harry lowers his voice even further. "Like, really close?"

Niall looks at him with concentration for a few moments, as if waiting for him to continue, and then his eyes widen and he even slaps a hand over his mouth dramatically. "No way!"

"Well I'm not exactly in any position to confirm anything, am I?" Harry reminds him. "Despite what you all seem to think, me and Louis don't actually know each other very well past some stupid tea leaf readings. I didn't even see that H until Trelawney pointed it out, in front of everyone."

Niall nods, but clearly wasn't really listening. "Do you really think they're, like, together?"

"Did you completely miss when I said I don't know?" Harry sighs, shaking his head. "I'm just guessing. If you want to know so much, ask."

"No wonder they're keeping it a secret though," Niall muses as if he hasn't heard a single word Harry's said. "I mean, with his family, they'd wanna keep the bloodline going, innit?"

Harry sighs deeply. "Just don't go blabbing about it, alright? You don't want those two on your bad side."

"Well, I have you to protect me, don't I?" Niall grins.

"Don't know what good I'm going to be," Harry throws back. "I'm not exactly good at protecting anyone. You've seen me in charms class."

Niall nods, and looks around before handing him his charms book. "Maybe we should get some practice in on that. I take it you didn't get a chance to really practice anything over the holidays?"

"No, of course not." And like that, the conversation seems forgotten, if only because Niall needs more opportunities to watch Stan and Louis before coming back for more conspiracy theorising.

Harry catches a few glimpses of Louis the next day, but they have no classes together so he doesn't get to interact with him. It's not like he's ever given a second thought to him before, but ever since the tea leaf incident, he can't help but notice him in the Great Hall, or the courtyard, or the corridors when they pass each other on their way to classes. Louis never looks at him, and Harry pretends he doesn't either, but he can't keep from wondering if Louis isn't at all what Harry had thought him to be. What they all did, based on so little facts.

He feels a little guilty about it all, about how they've discussed him in the past, not that he was a terribly frequent topic, but there doesn't seem to be a reason for his behaviour, and Harry knows he can't really have any opinions until they have more of a chance to talk. Maybe Louis will admit something and it will all make sense again.

Niall's going to spend the entire Potions class staring at Stan and Louis, though. He should never have mentioned it, it'll only encourage Niall to miss more work and stare into the distance. Yet Harry finds himself thinking about it a lot over the weekend. He accompanies Niall and Liam to Quidditch practice and he does his homework with Zayn but his mind keeps drifting. Back to Louis, back to the fumes of professor Trelawney's classroom.

There is always homework to do, and if there isn't set work, there's reading ahead, so Harry is never lost for things to do if he really needs it. Each lunch and dinner he can see Louis a few tables across, laughing with Stan, but they barely know each other, so he never attempts to make contact.

"What's getting to you, Harry?" Niall asks one evening, sprawled out in front of the fire like a puppy as he stares at the upside down world Harry knows he's inhabiting in Niall's eyes.

"Nothing, honestly," he assures them all, because it's obvious that this is one of those things where somebody is picked to voice a grouped concern. "I'm fine. Just stressed."

"Harry, you've never been stressed in your life," Liam scoffs.

“Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, right?” Harry replies testily, pulling his textbook closer to him to try to look busy.

“Is it a girl?” Liam asks suspiciously.

“No,” Harry snaps, maybe too quickly.

“You can tell us, you know,” Niall says seriously. “We'll help.”

"I don't need relationship advice, it's not a problem," Harry tries to sound convincing, but he's a terrible liar by default. It doesn't count as a relationship, though. It's very different to what they would understand as a problem. Not to mention how teasing they would all be if he admitted that he's been stuck thinking about Louis bloody Tomlinson for days.

"Alright," Zayn lifts his hands in defence and leans against the couch back again, signalling his defeat. "But if you need anything, we're right here."

Harry sighs, collecting his books and stuffing them into his bag. It's not that he isn't grateful for his friends, but he doesn't need them to remind him of things he'd rather not acknowledge.

“I'm going upstairs,” he says, shouldering his bag. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

And tomorrow is Monday, which means another Divination lesson, and he might be sitting with Louis again. He's not quite sure if he likes the way his stomach flips at the thought. It's ridiculous, but Harry doesn't think he's ever met someone quite like him.

By breakfast, he's managed to convince himself that the nerves are about the class itself, and how disturbing Trelawney is when she looms over him and vaguely resembles an owl in human form. He's sure that it's nothing to do with how he has to sit next to Louis again, and work with him. It's almost like the H that the professor insisted was in Louis' cup was a figment of his imagination.

"Have fun dealing with Tomlinson," Niall tells him when they break for class, and that shatters the illusion completely, ending up exactly where he started again by the time he's climbing up to the tower.

Everyone's already taken their seats when he enters the stuffy room, and again, Louis is sat alone at their table, looking haughty as ever as he stares off into the distance.

"Hi," Harry says nervously as he sits down, putting his bag down clumsily.

"Oh, hey," Louis replies, as if he doesn't quite recognise him, and Harry feels himself getting irritated. "Styles, right?"

"Right," Harry mumbles, fiddling with his books.

It's like Louis hasn't even spared him a thought since their last lesson. Which makes sense, since Harry knows he shouldn't have been so fixated, himself. He distracts himself by acting busy with the first book they're working with even though he knows what page they're on, has already read through it in case he's asked a question and has to talk in front of everyone next to the popular kid. Maybe Niall was right about him. Maybe Louis is just as much of an arse as he's always maintained.

Louis keeps staring in another direction and Harry risks looking at him from the corner of his eye in spite of himself and it seems he's paler than usual, a darkness around his eyes that seems somewhat unhealthy. He looks tired, unhappy even, and Harry simply forgets his annoyance in favour or getting worried.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks quietly, reclaiming Louis' attention.

"Hungry," he mutters, like he's not quite aware he's saying it.

"I've got a banana in my bag if you want," Harry offers. Louis just shakes his head, fringe falling into his eyes with the movement.

"Not that sort of hungry."

It makes sense. They're not to everyone's taste. Harry nods, and remembers vaguely not seeing Louis at breakfast. What could he have been doing that kept him up so late and made him miss the big meal that everyone tries to get to?

"Anything I can do?"

Louis turns his head, slowly, and looks at him as if seriously considering it at a deeper level than Harry was offering, just as Trelawney announces in a floaty tone that they're going to study the divine clues of transformations of any kind.

It isn't a very practical lesson, and they spend most of it taking notes and listening to Trelawney's dreamy voice, but when there's about fifteen minutes left, they're all divided into pairs and asked to connect a set of circumstances to a possible omen. Louis remains completely quiet, staring at his book emptily, and Harry clears his throat, trying to act casual.

“So, this first one, could be giant, right?”

"Sure. What else could make that sort of damage in trees?" Louis doesn't sound engaged at all, which is slightly surprising, given he's usually the loudest boy in the room, but Harry figures everyone has their bad days, and Louis is perfectly entitled to them like anyone else is.

"Okay, so what about this one?" He could probably do them alone, but if they don't look like they're at least trying to complete the task together, Trelawney might come over and draw attention to them. Harry has a feeling that Louis wants as little attention as possible.

"That's a werewolf."

"How?" He gets dirt under his nails all the time, but not because he's been out hunting all night or something. Werewolves have always been a difficult topic when it comes to identification for him.

“The blood,” Louis says, tapping the page with his finger.

“Why not a vampire?”

That draws a short laugh out of him, a glint in his otherwise dull eyes, and Harry finds himself staring into them, waiting for his reply.

“Vampires have more finesse than that,” Louis tells him. “No spill, no sign of struggle. They don't hunt people down.”

“So how do they hunt?”

“They seduce,” Louis murmurs, looking up from under his long lashes.

Harry nods in understanding, but can't quite look away, caught by the stare and considering how beautiful Louis is, really. "So, bit of an expert?" He asks quietly, not wanting to break the moment but feeling like maybe he should say something.

"Yeah, something like that," his voice is even prettier when it's whispered, and Harry doesn't know how to respond.

Somebody across the room starts laughing at something, breaking whatever tenuous link has formed between Harry and Louis, so Harry sits back, unaware that he's been leaning closer and taking up Louis' space previously. He looks down at their work, connecting the omen to the clue and considering the rest of the task.

Louis helps him with the last few answers, having sunken down into his seat again, and when the bell rings he looks so tired Harry feels obliged to say something.

“You don't look well. Do you wanna go to the hospital wing? I can take you.”

Louis looks up, eyes glazed over, and nods once, letting Harry help him to his feet.

He didn't expect Louis to agree, but Harry immediately takes his stuff and swings it onto his shoulder, waiting for the main crowd rush to vacate the small room before tucking Louis' incredibly small figure under his arm and helping him from the room without much fuss.

It's a testament to how bad Louis is when he doesn't seem to care that people are going to see him with Harry, a Gryffindor, being half carried through the castle. But Louis is completely quiet, and when they finally reach the hospital wing, Harry helps him onto a vacant bed while they're waiting for Madam Pomfrey to turn up. Louis grabs onto Harry's hand as he sinks onto the mattress. His fingers are ice cold.

It's unnerving, how it looks like Louis is just going to fade through the sheets, nearly matching the colour of them to his skin. Harry keeps his hand, trying to warm his skin up by holding it between both of his, trying to share body heat through a small surface area.

Madam Pomfrey shouts in surprise when she returns, and spends a few moments scolding Louis for taking so long to see her, sounding like this is a routine thing that Louis is just a day or so late on. Harry tries not to pry, not asking for verification because Louis probably only let him help out of necessity, not choice.

"Thank you, darling, for bringing him," Pomfrey tells Harry suddenly, finally acknowledging that he's even there. "He's so reckless, this one. Now run along and let me do my job."

"I can't stay?" Harry asks, feeling Louis' fingers slip from his as Pomfrey ushers him towards the door.

"He needs some peace and quiet now, love," she replies. "But don't worry, he'll be right back on his feet."

Harry stands outside the hospital wing for a few moments after the door closes, and wonders what sort of sickness Louis must have if he comes here often, pale and cold with barely any energy left to stand on his feet.

In the common room that evening, Niall eventually notices how quiet Harry is and asks openly what's making him frown so much. Caught off guard, Harry thinks back to Potions class, where Louis seemed as vibrant as ever, with little sign of his earlier struggles besides darkness under his eyes and a slightly slower gait that Stan doubled back to accommodate. Louis had smiled weakly over at Harry when he got caught staring, but otherwise didn't pay any attention to him.

"Nothing," he answers Niall, too late to really be believed. "Just... School stuff."

"That's the worst excuse you've ever had."

"Who says I ever need an excuse?"

Niall laughs. "Come on, mate. I bet it's not that interesting piece of History essay that's got you thinking."

"Louis was sick today," Harry sighs, looking around to make sure no one is listening. "Like, proper sick. I basically had to carry him to the hospital wing."

"Wait, when was this?" Niall frowns. "He was in Potions just a few hours ago."

"Yeah. No, it was before that. We have Divination together, remember? He was a mess."

Niall hums, thinking it over. "Did you get to find out what it was?"

"No, Pomfrey didn't really say, and she made me go back to lunch once she found us. I think it's a long term thing, though. Like he gets bad all the time."

"That's weird. I wonder why they haven't just cured whatever it is. Most things can be sorted really easily now, right? And if they couldn't, he'd surely be pulled from classes."

"Yeah, I don't know," Harry sighs, closing his books just to give himself something to do. "I'm worried, though."

"About Tomlinson? That's a little weird, Harry."

"He's not what you think," Harry mutters.

"He's a Slytherin.”

"And you're being ridiculous."

"Fine," Niall sighs, smiling a little. "If you wanna go fraternise with the enemy, that's your problem. Just don't come running to me when those two find out."

Harry looks over at Liam and Zayn, who are deeply engrossed in a game of Wizard's Chess a few tables over. He has a feeling Louis would say much the same if he found out Harry was worrying over him. It really isn't his business at all.

"It's probably nothing," he assures himself, letting Niall think it's all for him, "once he turns up in the hall as obnoxiously loud as he always is, I'll remember who we're talking about and stop."

"I hope so, because this could get really complicated," Niall smiles, leaning back on his hands and looking around the room. "If he were such a good person, he'd be in here," he smiles jokingly.

"You know that house elitist stuff doesn't make sense, right?" It's a comfortably old debate, one they both know the outcome of, and Harry takes it gratefully.

"Harry Potter was Gryffindor, is all I'm saying," Niall argues easily and Harry opens up his books again.

"And Voldemort was Slytherin," he fills in with a smile. "But Romeo was a Montague, you know. A rose by any other name and all that."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Harry doesn't see Louis again until the following week, when they're trotting down to the dungeons for Potions. Just as Harry is about to sit down beside Niall, he feels a steely grip around his upper arm and a familiar voice in his ear.

"You're with me today, Styles."

Harry falters, and looks at Niall in a state of alarm. It's the first time Louis has dared to acknowledge Harry outside of being forced to sit with him in class.

"It's fine, I'll manage," Niall waves him off, raising his eyebrows in a way that clearly states he expects details in return for putting up with Stan instead of Harry.

He's dragged unceremoniously across the room, over to where the majority of Slytherins are located to keep distance from the Gryffindors, and Harry feels like a poorly disguised spy in a dangerous movie.

"What's this all about?" Harry mutters quietly so Professor Hagman won't hear them.

"I just needed a partner," Louis shrugs as he starts unloading his bag.

"But what about...?" Harry throws a glance behind him and sees Stan glaring at them from across the room.

"Who cares?" Louis spits, dropping his books with a loud thud on the table.

"Are you fighting?"

"What the fuck does it matter?" Louis almost rips a page in his book as he turns to where they're working from.

"I'd like to know if Stan is going to poison my food, because he looks like he's about to throw something at me," Harry answers, trying to keep his tone light.

"He wouldn't do that," Louis tells him absently, "he's more of an 'in your face' kind of guy. You'd know it was him."

"That's not reassuring, at all."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Louis..." Harry whines quietly and realises far too late that he's not exactly on first name basis with him yet. Louis gives him an odd look but seems to decide to ignore it.

"I'll make the actual potion," he instructs. "You can prepare the ingredients. Keep your hands off the cauldron."

"So bossy," Harry complains half-heartedly and gets a kick in the leg for it.

He has to pass Stan on the way to the ingredients, and notices he's actually not so much angry as hurt, with red eyes and suspiciously damp cheeks. Harry thinks about asking what happened, but suspects he's one of the last people Stan wants to have to talk to about anything, especially Louis.

At their table, Louis continues to instruct him, which is a kinder word for forcefully order, and he should hate it all, but Harry actually finds himself smiling, laughing a little when Louis eventually declares him hopeless and leans across to finish his terrible work.

"Whyever did I choose to work with you?" he grumbles as he collects Harry's badly chopped Mandrake roots.

"Because I'm pretty," Harry grins, watching Louis' fingers curl delicately around the roots.

"You're ridiculous," Louis corrects him.

"That too," Harry agrees, and Louis doesn't quite seem to be able to hold back a smile as their eyes meet over the steaming cauldron.

Louis has to look away to add the appropriate items at the right intervals, but Harry feels the moment linger between them even as he catches sight of Niall shaking his head and awkwardly patting Stan's shoulder. He feels a little guilty that they had to work together in the end, but everybody has to partner up. Maybe Niall will have better luck understanding what's going on.

A few times, he considers asking about Louis' illness, but the moment never seems right, and he's worried that Louis prefers to not think about it unless he has to. It's worth it to not have answers, though, when Louis laughs at Harry's storytelling of how the others sent him to the wrong side of the school for his first lesson to explain why he was so late.

"Are all Gryffindors that gullible or is it just you?" Louis asks drily as he puts the finishing touches to their potion, watching it turn silver.

"Probably just me," Harry confesses. "Don't know why I'm not in Hufflepuff."

"I'm sure there's a reason," Louis says absently just as Professor Hagman walks over to look at their work.

And that's when their cauldron suddenly explodes.

There's laughter widespread across the room as Harry, Louis and the professor get coated in thick metallic silver potion, but nobody laughs louder than Stan, who looks completely smug.

"Told you you'd know it was him," Louis snarls, flicking his hand to dislodge the liquid and wiping his eyes with a clean section of his robes. "He's such a prat."

The detention was inevitable, and Niall is the only one who stays to tell Harry that he'll save some food for him if he doesn't get out in time. Nobody extends such thoughts to Louis.

"Fucking hell," Louis swears as they're made to stay and clean up after themselves as well as cleaning up a dozen other messes left behind by students, without magic of course.

"At least it wasn't poison," Harry tries as he crouches to wipe the floor with a rag.

"It might as well have been," Louis mutters and picks up a cloth.

"Seriously, what is Stan's problem?" Harry asks him, peeking out from under his curls. "I think you're obliged to tell me after the mess you put us in."

"The mess _I_...?" Louis trails off, sighing in exasperation. "Alright, fine. But you're not allowed to judge me."

"No judgement, got it."

Louis nods, grimacing in distaste at the way his robes cling to him under the heavy weight of the potion. "Well, me and Stan are sort off... together, but not dating. We just mess around sometimes."

Harry nods, pleased with himself for calling it, at least in part.

"I was fine with it not getting anywhere serious, but apparently Stan isn't."

"So you broke it off?"

"I dunno. He was being a jealous arse and I told him as much. He said some shit he shouldn't have."

"I won't tell anyone," Harry mumbles, wringing the rag over the bucket they'd been given.

"Obviously," Louis scoffs. "Not like anyone would believe you anyway."

"Why not?"

"I'm a Tomlinson, remember?"

"You're also a bit of a prat."

"Well, yeah. I guess so," Louis shrugs, looking like he doesn't care about the label, which is probably completely true. But Harry isn't sure it fits him any more, because while he maybe has some undesirable qualities, that's not cause for not liking him.

"You're not as big a prat as you pretend to be," Harry announces, praying he was reading it right, and feeling relief flood him when Louis just raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah? How so?"

“Well, for one, you don't seem ashamed of being gay.”

“Who says I'm gay?”

“Aren't you?”

They stare at each other for a moment before Louis' face splits into a smile. “Go on.”

“And you've helped me out in class.”

“Can't have you dragging me down, Styles.”

“Harry,” Harry says mildly. “My name is Harry.”

"Alright, Harry," his pronunciation makes Harry smile instinctively, and it feels like they're making progress, that he's getting to know how Louis really is, past the act that he puts up in front of the class. He lets there be a natural quiet for a while, as they finish up, and builds the courage to ask a question.

"Louis... Do you think you and Stan will work everything out? Or am I going to be dragged cross to your team every time we have Potions?"

Louis shrugs. "Probably. Depends if Stan gets over himself. You don't mind, do you?"

"Working with you? No," Harry shakes his head. "Being killed by Stan? Probably."

Louis laughs and it's a nice sound - uninhibited. "Stan's great, really," he shrugs. "I guess it's not his fault if he can't resist my charm."

"Good to know your modesty isn't affected by this potion sabotage," Harry says but can't help but agree with him, easily caught by his personality from the first day they met.

"Call it a defence." Louis tugs at his robes, trying to get them to sit right while they're becoming hard as rock in some places.

They walk together as far as they can before Louis has to turn off towards his common room to change, and by the time Harry gets back to his friends, he doesn't care about Stan messing with their work, because he got to befriend Louis, properly, at last.

"What's that dopey smile for?" Niall asked the second Harry sits down at the Gryffindor table to hurriedly gobble down some dinner before it gets too late. "I thought you just had detention?"

"T'was nice," Harry tells him around a mouthful of food.

"Nice? What's wrong with you?"

"Louis' nice," Harry smiles and doesn't care when Niall looks horrified and chokes on his pumpkin juice.

"I think we're thinking about two very different people, Harry," he coughs, looking around to be sure Zayn and Liam aren't paying attention. "I just sat through a long rant about all the times Louis has been anything but nice. Stan's a sweet person, but god can he talk."

Harry shakes his head, grabbing more food before it changes to the next course. "Stan's having a rough time, they had a misunderstanding."

"I'm telling you, mate, you're getting Stockholm Syndrome or something, this isn't normal."

"And you're being awfully judgemental," Harry retorts. "You don't even know him."

"And you do?" Niall challenges.

"Yeah," Harry says defiantly. "I know him well enough, and he's been nothing but nice to me." It might be a bit of a stretch, but Harry isn't going to play the stupid house rivalry game, especially not since he intends to get to know Louis properly, if he gets the chance.

Niall pauses to visibly think it over, and eventually nods. "Alright. If you want to do all this, that's obviously fine. I'm just trying to look out for you. Before this term, we all knew Louis to be a very different person, so I'm just... Cautious."

"Don't worry, Niall," Harry smiles easy, "I'm fairly sure he's not actually a bad person."

"That's what they all say," Niall shakes his head mournfully, but then he laughs and Harry knows he's lucky to have friends like Niall.

The next few weeks pass quickly, and Harry feels like he's suddenly got a lot more energy to participate in classes and do his homework instead of just copying Liam's. Every time he sees Louis in the corridors, he stops to chat for a bit, and Louis lets him, even if Stan always just walks past Harry and leaves Louis to catch up with him later.

They work together in Divination every time, even if Louis has gone back to Stan in Potions, much to Harry's dismay as he never ends up with the same results working with Niall. Louis tells him Stan is over it. Harry isn't sure he believes him. If they catch each others eye across the room in the hall or potion class and smile, he can see Stan trying to curse him with his eyes.

Liam and Zayn start to notice, of course, but are surprisingly okay with the fact that Harry is removing the rival line between the houses single-handedly. Neither of them like Louis, but Harry suspects it's more out of envy than actual dislike, so they don't actually have much to hold against Harry, and with Niall on his side, he's pretty much covered. It's just that Louis makes him laugh without even trying, and he's cleverer than Harry would ever admit, always shaping words and magic into the most unexpected new forms. Harry is fascinated, and charmed, and inexplicably giddy whenever Louis' attention turns to him.

Very quickly, he learns why Stan would be upset that Louis doesn't want to truly return his feelings, but decides never to say it out loud.

They work so well in Divination that Trelawney ends up spending far more time with them than any other pair, and while it's awkward at first, Louis seems to thrive on the attention. He's clearly bullshitting his way through the subject but he does it skilfully, making Trelawney believe every single thing he makes up out of thin air, and Harry can't help but admire that kind of devotion, even if it's just so typically Slytherin of him.

On the way from class one day, Louis leans in close to whisper a question into Harry's ear.

"Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me tonight? I know a secret passage."

"For real?" Harry asks with big eyes.

"Sure," Louis grins mischievously. "We can go to the Hog's Head. Get drunk."

"But we're not of age."

"They don't care at the Hog," Louis scoffs, as if he's millions of years older than Harry and knows everything about everything.

He knows, really, that he should definitely say no. There are many things that could go wrong.

"Yeah, sure. When?"

"After the feast, when everyone is going back to their common rooms, we can slip away. It'll be fun."

"Is anyone else coming with us?" If Stan's invited, he knows he'll have to turn it down. To keep the peace, so to speak.

"Just me and you, Styles."

Harry tries not to grin too broadly, but there is just something so wonderful about being enough for Louis Tomlinson. Enough to make a night fun and enough to break the rules for. It's the first time they've ever planned on meeting outside of class.

“Meet me at the statue of the hunchback witch, okay?” Louis continues. “I've got something to show you too.”

Harry nods, feeling a nervous excitement start to build as he dresses warmly under his robes for dinner, trying to find a good time to tell Niall.

He manages to find a good time just as Niall is declaring himself so full on trifle that he's going to explode.

"Hey, um, Niall... Can you cover for me tonight?"

"What, why?"

"I... Louis invited me somewhere," he explains, voice low enough to not be overheard. "I don't know when I'll get back."

"By somewhere, do you mean beyond the castle?"

"Maybe."

"Harry..." Niall warns. "Sounds like something a Slytherin would come up with."

"Or a Gryffindor," Harry says pointedly.

"Yeah, well, I get it," Niall shrugs, looking into his food, chewing in silence.

"What? What do you get?"

"That you can't stay away from him. He's exciting. It's fine."

Harry opens his mouth to argue against the statement, but ultimately has to agree with him. "I feel like there's something more to learn, something big that I'm missing. I need to know what it is."

There are little things Louis says sometimes, that remind him of the day he looked like he was going to pass out. He's never explained it, and Harry doesn't want to ask outright, but maybe one day he'll get an answer.

"Just be careful tonight, okay? I don't want you to suddenly get in a lot of trouble."

"Not like I haven't been in trouble before."

"You know what I mean." And Harry does. Niall isn't stupid, and he probably knows what they're planning to do. Harry's never been drunk before and neither has Niall. He has a reason to worry, after all.

"I'll be good," Harry promises, watching Louis walk off with Stan on the other side of the hall. "I need to go."

Niall nods, pushing some more food into his hand as he stands up. "Make sure you've eaten enough, and go slow."

"Alright, mum," Harry laughs, keeping a careful distance between himself and Louis, waiting around a corner as he says goodbye to Stan. It's too far to make out words, but he understands that Stan isn't very happy about letting him go without him.

As soon as it's clear, Harry walks over, face immediately falling into a smile when Louis gestures him over quickly.

"Well, you look psyched," Louis laughs as he pulls him in behind the statue of the hunchback witch, pressing close as he rummages inside his cloak for something. Harry feels his breath catch unexpectedly as Louis' hair tickles his nose. "Relax," Louis tells him, starting to unfold a piece of parchment.

"I'm relaxed," Harry says quickly.

"Oh, yeah? Your heartbeat is out of control, mate.”

"How can you tell?"

There's a pause of a few seconds, before Louis clears his throat and pulls out his wand.

"Harry, I need you to promise to keep a secret."

"Sure," Harry frowns, wondering what big thing he's being trusted to know. Instead of directly answering, Louis taps on the parchment, speaking quietly.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Harry stares in surprise as ink begins to flood across the parchment from the tip of Louis' wand. Corridors and rooms appear, and names. Hundred of names.

"This is Hogwarts," he gasps.

"Yep," Louis nods. "And this is us." He points at a dot with two names so intertwined that it looks like it says _Larry Stylinson_. "See the passage here? This is the one we're taking. This way, we can sneak back in without being caught."

"How did you get this?"

Louis gives him a secretive smile, winks, and leads the way through the secret passage. Blindly, Harry follows, because he's not sure he'd forgive himself if he turned back, not when Louis is only just starting to trust him and become so much more interesting.

They walk in silence, mostly, the only sound being their quiet breaths as they walk by the light of their wands. It should be uncomfortable, but instead it feels completely pleasant. Harry can still hear the blood thumping in his ears, and wonders if Louis really did feel it or just took an educated guess earlier. Either way, he doesn't comment on it again and Harry lets himself be lead straight into the cellar of Honeydukes, crouching low behind some boxes while Louis checks if the coast is clear.

It's just before closing time but they make it out before anyone can notice them, and once they're out in the chill evening air, Harry laughs in triumph because he doesn't think he's ever felt this alive.

He thinks about what he could be doing, just sat around in the common room being bored, wondering what he's supposed to do with his time. But instead, he's in Hogsmeade, with Louis Tomlinson, grinning and relishing the feeling of cold air on his skin.

"This is brilliant," he announces, and Louis smiles warmly, taking hold of his wrist over his coat and leading him down the street.

"You're like an excitable puppy," Louis comments, but he's laughing too, which sounds beautiful.

Harry doesn't answer, too focused on Louis' fingers wrapped around his wrist. They're cold, and Harry's contemplating offering to lend him his scarf when they suddenly reach their destination and Louis lets go.

It feels extremely odd to walk into the Hog's Head and up to the bar to ask for drinks. Harry stands slightly behind Louis through the whole thing, pretending to be very interested in his own shoes while Louis talks loudly, joking with the bartender and giving generous tips.

"Grab a table," Louis tells him and Harry shuffles off into a corner, trying to look as if he belongs.

He snags a table as far from the door as he can get, and wonders if anyone in the pub knows that they've somehow escaped Hogwarts, and if anyone cares. If anyone works in the castle and is there just to check for students that have broken rules and found their way here.

"Stop freaking out," Louis tells him, suddenly by his side with drinks in both hands. "Nobody is going to come and get you, and the secret passage way is there for a reason, right?"

Harry nods quietly, taking a hesitant sip of his drink. It's better than he expected.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Butterbeer," Louis smiles innocently and Harry can't help but smile back. It doesn't taste like butterbeer at all, but it looks a lot like it, and Harry doesn't really care what it is as long as Louis stays where he is.

"Do you come here often?" Harry asks and this time Louis laughs. Harry isn't sure what's so funny.

"Sometimes," Louis tells him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Do you come here on your own?"

"If it's last minute, yes. I like it here, it feels nice." Harry understands what he means, feeling a lot less restricted without the constant likelihood that a teacher will interfere with their time.

"Thanks for bringing me," Harry tells him, manners finally coming into play.

"Any time, mate," Louis answers, a sincerity Harry can't quite place in his words.

"Can I ask you something?" He says after a few beats of silence, taking another swig of his drink to calm his nerves.

"Sure."

"Are you still sleeping with Stan?"

Louis looks at him over the rim of his glass, eyes calculating, and Harry feels himself shrink in his seat a little. "Why?"

"Just curious," Harry mumbles, looking away.

"It happens," Louis answers at last, voice calm. "He knows it doesn't mean anything."

"Is he alright with that, though?"

"He has to be."

It sounds cold, but Harry feels like he knows Louis enough now to recognise a kind of hope.

"Well, he hasn't tried to kill me, so I guess he's better," he states, to lighten the mood, and watches Louis melt into laughter thankfully, lighting up the dark corner they've secured as their own space.

"So what about you, Harold?" he smiles. "Seeing anyone?"

"You know I'm not," Harry blushes, the nickname bouncing around his brain a few times before it settles.

"You shy?" Louis grins at him cheekily.

"No!" He answers before he has time to answer honestly, because he's not sure if he's ready for the answer.

"Sure," Louis nudges his shoulder fondly, then looks him over appraisingly. "I'm not sure why you're holding back, though. Anyone would be lucky to get your attention."

"You're as bad as Niall," Harry scorns, to cover up the faint stutter his heart fell victim to.

"Horan, right? The blond?"

"Uh, yeah."

Louis scoffs. "What does he know about sex."

Harry feels himself blush again. "Probably not much."

"You Gryffindors are all a bunch of prudes."

"I'm not a prude," Harry argues stubbornly. "Just haven't met the right person yet."

"Oh my god," Louis laughs so hard he has to put down his glass, but it's the kind of laughter that doesn't cut through Harry in patronising waves. "That is the most tragic thing I've ever heard. Harry, mate, you need to get yourself together and find someone."

"I'm trying!" Harry pouts, staring at the table as if he's deeply annoyed by Louis' words, and that his heart isn't fluttering like an owl trapped in a cage.

"There's no such thing as the right person," Louis goes on. "It's just about the right time and the right circumstances."

"So romantic," Harry mutters.

"Romance is for pussies," Louis declares.

"Well, you're entitled to that. But I'd prefer to think there's a place for it."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Of course you would. Jesus, you're gayer than I am."

Harry coughs on his drink, and gives up arguing that he's not even dated a boy before. "I'm not the one in a casual sex deal with my best friend," he counters.

"Are you jealous?" Louis smirks, draining his drink. "Because if you were, I'm sure we could make room for you."

"Oh, shove off," Harry tells him and watches Louis saunter off with a laugh to get them new drinks. The evening has just begun, and Harry already feels like he's on thin ice.

A few hours and several glasses later, Harry is nearly falling off his chair with laughter but he's already forgotten what's so funny.

"Alright," Louis says with a steady hand on his arm. "I think it's time to get you home."

"I don't wanna go back," Harry protest, holding onto Louis' shoulder and frowning. "I like it here, with you."

"I know you do," Louis tells him, smiling fondly. "But if we don't stop now, you won't be able to get through the door to your common room."

It's a very good point, and Harry allows Louis to drag him out of the pub, eyes caught by how smooth and soft Louis looks in the moonlight. He even stumbles on his own feet a bit but Louis catches him easily around the waist and stops him from falling, holding on as they continue walking.

"You're really strong," Harry tells him, letting Louis take some of his body weight. Louis just hums.

"Lucky for you, else you'd be on the floor."

"Yeah. You don't look like you'd be really strong. You're really little."

Louis laughs, then, and shakes his head quietly. "Yeah, alright. Mock my height, you weird giant."

Harry grins, leaning to nudge Louis' shoulder with his forehead to show his silent affection because words are difficult, and his thoughts are a haze of half-complete sentences.

"How we getting back?"

"Another passage. This one is a bit tighter so we'll have to crawl."

" _Crawl_?!"

"Keep it down, Haz, or you'll wake up the whole fucking town!"

Harry isn't sure how they make it into the tiny tunnel but he does become aware of how Louis' arse ends up in his face as they start crawling and he bursts into giggles immediately, making Louis stop and look over his shoulder.

"What's wrong with you?" he hisses. "Harry!"

"Sorry. Sorry," Harry laughs, taking a moment to duck his face against the ground, letting the cold floor settle him a little. "I'm fine."

"I should have kept a better eye on what you were drinking," Louis sighs, "are you okay to keep going?"

"Yeah, sure, I can keep going," Harry doesn't quite recognise his own voice, and muffles a grin against his sleeve.

He manages to stop giggling, but he doesn't take his eyes off Louis' bum for the whole time they're in the passage, and he's too drunk to think about the implications of it. Everything is fuzzy, and nice, and Harry doesn't ever want it to stop.

"We're here," Louis says suddenly, pushing open a hatch above his head.

"Where's here?" Harry asks, worming his way in beside Louis.

"The dungeons," Louis whispers, pulling forth the map.

Harry thinks about getting out of the passage, being in the cold, dark dungeons and having to navigate his way up to his dorm, which seems like miles away. He considers not being next to Louis for the duration of that journey, and decides he wants to prolong it.

Confidently, he drags the hatch closed again, and just sits there, in the dark, wondering what he's trying to achieve, and where, exactly, Louis' lips might be.

"What are you doing?" Louis hisses at him. Harry follows the sound with his hands, finding Louis' hair and tugging at it gently. "Harry..."

It's his name that draws him in, spoken so softly and so close. He finds the corner of Louis' mouth with his lips, presses a kiss there, moves on to fit their mouths together properly.

"You're so cold," Harry whispers.

"Shut up," Louis tells him and pushes his tongue into Harry's mouth.

It feels weird, at first, but within seconds it becomes safe, perfect. Harry drags Louis closer, until they're pressed up against each other and he wonders what the names on the map would read, as overlapped as they are now.

Louis makes a quiet sound, and Harry takes it as an offer to mimic his actions, tasting him and smiling a little at how the complete darkness makes everything a little more awkward. They kiss until Harry's head is spinning so much he has to lie down with a little sigh, feeling Louis' fingers in his hair.

"You alright?" he asks him quietly.

"I think I'm really drunk," Harry mumbles.

"Well, you can't sleep here," Louis tells him and opens the hatch again, letting the soft torchlight flood the passage. "I'll take you back."

Harry doesn't remember much after that, but he wakes up in his own bed the next morning, lying very still for a long moment while the jumbled memories come back to him in bits and pieces. He sighs, and remembers sighing in a small, dark space, with Louis close by.

It comes back in reverse, like a rewound film, and he can see the moment he let instincts take over when he really shouldn't have. Really, he thinks it started when he asked Louis if he was still _with_ Stan.

"Hello, rebel with barely any cause," Niall shouts, or it sounds like he's shouting. Harry can't tell, only knows that his head is ringing as he curls up under the sheets.

"Shut up..." he groans, trying to hide under his pillow.

"No, no," Niall protests, prying the pillow from Harry's hands. "You need to tell me everything."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Of course there is. How did you get out? Where did you go? Are you hungover?"

"Secretly, the pub, and what do you think?" Harry whines, wrapping his arms around his head and pushing back nausea either caused by the hangover, or the memory of what he allowed to happen. "I feel awful."

"Come on, you need to get down to the hall and eat something filling. It'll help, I swear."

"You just want to see me suffer."

"Well, that too."

"You think I deserve it," Harry whines.

"Of course," Niall says cheerily. "Still think Tomlinson is worth it?"

Harry swallows thickly, feeling his heart rate pick up. He doesn't know what to say.

"....Harry," Niall asks, sounding increasingly suspicious. "Harry, what happened?"

"Nothing."

Niall climbs onto the bed, frowning at him through a little gap in the sheets.

"The others are already downstairs. So you can tell me, I'll keep it between us, you know."

Harry shakes his head, adding that to the list of things he regrets. If he admits it, it becomes more real.

"I don't even remember the end of the night," he says instead. "I think he had to carry me back."

"Ah, well," Niall says, patting Harry's back gently. "At least he got you home. So he can't be that bad."

"He's not bad," Harry agrees. "He's not bad at all."

Eventually, they make it down to lunch, and Harry's eyes immediately go to the Slytherin table. Louis catches his eye, and smiles happily, clearly relieved to see he's okay. Harry blushes, and ducks his head. Niall has to steer him out of the way of a group of Ravenclaw girls, whom he greets by individual names, and gets giggles in return.

"One of them will eventually let me take them on a date, I'm sure," Niall tells him. "They're all perfect."

"If they're all perfect, doesn't it destroy the purpose of the word?" Harry asks, because if he doesn't, he'll argue that Louis deserves that title.

"I'll get back to you on that when I know them all better."

"Alright," Harry says distractedly and tries to catch Louis' eye again. It isn't working, as he's talking to Stan. Harry feels his blood boil a little.

Liam and Zayn are nowhere to be found so they sit alone at the end of the table and Harry does his best to look at nothing but his food that he's not eating. He wants to see Louis again, to talk to him and make sure they're okay. And maybe he wants to kiss him again. It's all a bit blurred in his mind.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Niall asks quietly, nudging him, and his tone suggests this isn't the first time he's asked, even if it's the first time Harry heard him.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm okay." He's confused, and worried, and a whole load of other things he can't think to name right now. But he's pretty sure 'okay' isn't one of them.

"Look, whatever it is, it's going to be okay," Niall tells him kindly. "And you don't have to tell me, but if you ever want to, I'm right here, mate."

Harry looks up, and nods his thanks, hoping it's enough, before he pushes his plate away and gets to his feet. "I have to talk to Louis."

"Alright."

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure."

The walk to the other side of the hall is terrifying, and it only gets worse once he's among the Slytherins, making his way to the crowd Louis is always at the centre of.

"Hey, um, Louis?" He starts, sounding small and unsure of himself. Louis looks up, and smiles kindly.

"Hey, Harold, what's up?"

Harry ignores the confused expression on Stan's face and tries for confidence.

"Can we talk, for a minute?"

"Sure," Louis climbs from the table, and gestures for Harry to lead them away.

He has no idea where he's going, just knowing he has to get away from the Slytherins and everybody's judging eyes as quick as he can.

They end up in a broom cupboard. It's awkward.

"What's going on?" Louis asks the moment Harry has closed the door and locked it for good measure.

"Are we okay?" Harry blurts, nervously running his hands through his hair.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Louis frowns.

"We kissed! And I don't even remember coming back to the dorms, I... I kissed you."

"And I kissed you back, hey. I'm not judging, alright?"

"But, like, doesn't it mean something big?"

"Well, it means you wanted to kiss me, and I was on board with it. That's fine."

"I'm not gay, though," Harry insists, convincing himself more than Louis.

"I think you might need to reconsider that, Harry."

He bites his lip, wrapping his arms around himself and feels something crumble inside. "I'm really confused," he whispers, and it's like a touch from the Gods when Louis pulls him close and holds him, letting Harry wrap his arms around his neck and latch on. He can't help it when he turns his head and buries his nose in Louis' soft hair, or when he breathes in, letting the smell sooth his fraying nerves.

Louis lets Harry lean on him, smoothing a hand along his back slowly, and Harry gradually feels more comfortable, even if he's still trembling, still in need of sorting out what's happening in his head. Is it all boys, or just Louis? He thinks it's just Louis, but he can't be sure.

"Do you want to try it again?" Louis asks quietly, close to his ear. "To make sure?"

Harry doesn't answer, but pulls back just enough to press his lips against Louis', closing his eyes. It's a bit slower this time, a bit less sloppy, but just as intense, if not more so now that Harry is actually aware of what he's doing. Louis fists his hair and angles Harry exactly how he wants him, taking command so easily, and Harry lets it happen, lets the heat pool in his stomach when Louis' hand drifts lower on his back.

Suddenly, he's glad for the awkward location choice for their talk, and presses closer against Louis, hand tracing over his shirt as he tries to remember how the angle feels, tries to keep track of everything so he can think it over later, when he's calmed down.

And then Louis' hand comes around to his front, pressing over his trousers, fingers rubbing over sensitive skin and Harry moans, loud and needy, into his mouth.

"Fuck," he mutters, feeling a massive wave of arousal surge through him.

"It's alright," Louis mumbles, pressing soothing kisses to his face, finding Harry's hand and guiding it to his own crotch. He can feel his hard on through the thin material and it sends another shiver down his spine, another flash of heat between his legs.

It's foreign, but it's also slightly familiar, and the desperation between them helps Harry to feel like they're doing the right thing, because he knows he couldn't stop thinking about Louis for days, and it was all leading to this.

It's easy to work out a rhythm, and Harry finds that just the contact through their clothes is enough to drag rough gasps from his lips, muffled against Louis'. They're so close yet it feels like it's not close enough, and Harry thinks he's whining but Louis' lips on his neck are too distracting for him to really know.

"Shit," Louis mutters suddenly. "Get your belt open, come on." And as Louis' hand leaves Harry to work on his own belt, Harry has no choice but to obey, opening his trousers with shaking fingers. "Come here," Louis whispers, catching Harry's mouth in another kiss as he slips his hand inside Harry's pants.

Everything becomes a lot more intense the second there is skin contact. Louis swears against his lips again, and Harry loses track of everything he's thinking that isn't Louis' name on repeat, his breathing uneven as he shakily wraps his hand around Louis.

It doesn't take long until they're just panting into each other's mouths, not even bothering to try to kiss anymore. Harry's head falls onto Louis' shoulder, and he's so close, thrusting into Louis' hand as he tightens his own grip and speeds up.

Harry comes first, groaning into Louis' shoulder and resting most of his weight on him. Louis doesn't take long to follow, muffling his shout against Harry's robes. There is a long moment when they just hold onto each other, leaning against the rough wall and panting in unison, the muffled sounds of students milling about just on the other side of the door seeping through the cracks.

They stand for a few minutes, just trying to get their breath back, before Louis clears his throat softly.

"So, verdict?"

"I might be a little gay," Harry allows, feeling safe announcing it in yet another enclosed space with Louis.

"Yeah..."

Louis pushes him back gently, getting some space between them to reach for his wand and mutter a cleaning charm to get the stains out of their robes. Harry awkwardly does his trousers up again, smoothing down his shirt.

"I don't..." he starts, cutting himself off.

"It's okay," Louis reassures him, smiling and pressing a soft kiss to Harry's swollen lips. "You don't have to say anything."

"But I want to," Harry tells him, reaching for his hair, unable to keep his hands off of him now he's allowed to touch. "Do you... Do you want to keep doing this?"

"I'd like to," Louis answers, laughing gently.

"Me too," Harry smiles widely, pulling him in for another kiss. "But, what is it to you? I don't want another misunderstanding like with Stan."

"Well, why don't we start like this, and see where it goes?" Louis suggests, smoothing out Harry's robes for him.

"Okay," Harry says, thumb trailing the shell of Louis' ear. "What about Stan?"

"What about him?"

"Will you end things with him?"

"There isn't anything to end," Louis shrugs. "But I'll stop fucking him if you want."

It's a very blunt way of wording it, but Harry nods gratefully. "I'd like that."

"Cool," Louis grins, seeming reluctant to let Harry go so that they can leave the cupboard. "So you're good?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, now. Bit hungover," Harry smiles shyly.

"Means you had a good night, Harold," Louis laughs, clearing his throat and tipping his head to the side as he listens to check the coast is clear.

"You go first," he says at last. "The corridor's empty."

"Yeah, okay," Harry nods, sneaking one last kiss before he leaves.

He would have liked to ask when they'd next be seeing each other, and if he's allowed to tell anyone, and if Louis feels butterflies and rainbows and shooting stars every time he hears Harry's name. There are so many questions dancing right at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't know how to word a single one of them, so he doesn't, and he walks up to the Gryffindor Tower alone, oddly empty after what just happened.

Niall waves him over when he gets up to the common room, patting the space next to him on the couch.

"So, what did you talk about?" he asks, with the intonation of a young teenager trying to get gossip.

"Nothing that you need to know about," Harry answers, wishing he could say otherwise, but not wanting to mess up whatever tenuous arrangement he has with Louis so soon.

Niall whistles, and looks down at his book. "Alright, fine, but I'm here if you want to explain what's making you so weird, mate."

"I'm not weird," Harry says petulantly, and then adds, "-er than usual," when Niall gives him a look.

"You know, people have started talking about you two," Niall tells him quietly.

"What? What are they saying?"

"That it's just plain odd for two guys of different houses, especially ours, to spend so much time together. They think Tomlinson is using you for something."

"He isn't using me!" Harry says heatedly.

"Well, you don't have to tell _me_ that, mate. I know he's your friend."

Friend. Niall is his friend, but Louis really doesn't fit that description. Harry nods, wondering if people are starting to guess correctly, and if people are asking Louis, if Louis is denying it because he's embarrassed to be put with Harry publicly.

"Harry? You went a bit blank there," Niall frowns, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry," Harry sighs, resting his face in his hands. "I'm having a bit of a strange time, right now."

"I know. Hey, I know it's none of my business, but... If you want someone to talk to, but it's totally secret, we can go somewhere else. You don't have to fight whatever's going on by yourself."

Harry thinks about it, but gets distracted by a new thought. "What about Zayn and Liam?" he asks. "Do you think they believe those rumours?"

"I don't know," Niall says carefully. "I haven't seen them much lately, to be honest."

"Me neither," Harry sighs. He never expected it to be this hard. "Can we just play some chess or something?" he asks tiredly. "I just want to think about something else for a minute."

"Sure," Niall says gently. "Whatever you need."

They play chess for a few hours, until Harry can't focus on his side, and Niall's managed to take most of his pieces in a spectacular display of magical violence on the board. They make it downstairs for dinner, and make plans to walk around the grounds, rather than be stuck in the common room all day.

Zayn and Liam seem to be planning for Quidditch try-outs, and invite them to watch practice. It seems like a better idea than not having any sort of plan, and Harry appreciates being a little further away from Louis, while he works himself out.

Sunday is slow and Harry spends it trying to catch up with his home work, far too aware that he has Divination the next day. He watches Louis at the Slytherin table, yearning to walk over there, but Louis seems fine, and Harry doesn't want to seem needy. Niall lets him brood in silence.

When Monday finally rolls around, Harry is ridiculously nervous, flicking the pages of his dream diary all through breakfast and wondering if he should lie to Louis about the very vivid dream he had about him that night.

He gets to the classroom before Louis, to avoid having to walk there with him, and he feels guilty about burying his gaze in his book when Louis sits next to him, but it's the only alternative to blushing like an idiot and ultimately making a fool of himself.

"Hey, Harry, are you alright?" Louis asks after a few minutes of painful silence.

"Fine."

"No, come on. Did I do something wrong?"

Harry glances up, meeting Louis' searching eyes. "No," he says, trying to take in the ethereal beauty of Louis' soft face. "I just missed you."

He watches the corners of Louis' lips curve up into a gentle smile, one that seems to be only for Harry, and that gives him the courage to add. "I had a dream about you."

"Yeah?" Louis breathes, leaning in a little closer. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for the classroom environment," Harry smiles carefully, leaning to meet him halfway, but not quite letting them touch. Trelawney would have a fit, if nothing else.

"Well, you should tell me later, then," Louis hums, looking him over hungrily.

Harry begins to answer, but the professor begins to talk over them, likely for the best, and Louis winks discretely before leaning away from Harry's personal space. It takes a minute or two for Harry to get his breathing back under control.

They spend the entire lesson kicking each other playfully under the table and exchanging subtle touches, pretending to decipher each other's dreams. At one point, Louis' hand settles on Harry's thigh but it makes him so flushed that he can't get a coherent sentence out so Louis has to pull back before Harry can embarrass himself in front of the whole class. He's still so new to the game of flirting and seduction.

He feels a little ridiculous for it, but Louis seems nothing but fond, so he gets over it enough to lean a little against him as they work, shoulders and hands brushing against each other. They barely speak, but Harry feels like they don't need to, understanding each other and communicating through eye contact.

At some point, Harry considers how uncomfortable some other classmates might be to see two boys so completely distracted by each other, but he decides he doesn't care at all.

As soon as the bell rings, Louis leans in close and whispers, "Time to tell me about that dream, Styles. We've got the whole lunch break."

And Harry barely has the motor skills to pack up his books but Louis helps and then they're rushing down the spiral staircase towards the empty classrooms on the fifth floor. They don't speak, but the second the door is closed and locked behind them, Louis grins and backs up against the desk, pulling Harry with him.

"Was it a classroom environment? Because we've got the whole room to ourselves," he whispers, hands finding their way under Harry's shirt easily.

"Maybe I don't want to tell you," Harry replies, mostly because he's still nervous, still not quite sure how to word what he's feeling and what happened, because he's not used to those sorts of dreams at all.

"Don't be a tease," Louis scorns him, gripping his hips and pulling him closer.

"Uhh," Harry says and Louis kisses his throat. "We were in my dorm," he manages.

"Oh," Louis purrs. "What about the other boys?"

"Dunno. Just us."

"Mhm," Louis hums, starting to unbuckle Harry's belt with deft fingers.

"Louis, you're still cold."

"It's nothing. Keep going."

"You got into my room," Harry starts, deciding to take it slow.

"Yeah? How?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about you, then you just.... you were there, getting in bed with me, taking off your shirt." Harry closes his eyes, thinking back, face already starting to flush.

"Mmn," Louis hums, starting to do just that, as if he's entirely willing to live out what Harry is describing.

"I was already naked," Harry whispers, a little embarrassed and distracted by Louis' pale and smooth chest coming into view. "Fuck, you're fit," he mumbles and Louis laughs, clearly loving the attention.

"What happened next?"

"You came over to lay down with me," Harry says slowly, running his hands over Louis' cool skin, "and placed my hand over your... Your..."

"Say it."

"Your cock," Harry whispers, claiming Louis' lips in a fierce kiss to cover up his embarrassment.

Louis makes a choked sound, pressing against him until Harry is on his back on the desk, shirt pushing up and the wood cold under his back.

"What did you do? Show me," Louis tells him, and Harry rushes to comply, fumbling with Louis' belt and pressing his hand under the material to wrap around Louis, eagerly swallowing the breathless sound that almost resembles his name from Louis' lips.

He's on Harry's lap now, grinding down against him with every stroke, and Harry starts pushing back, unable to keep himself still when the friction is just so good. He tilts his head when Louis starts sucking on his throat, leaving a bruise probably, lapping over his pulse point hungrily.

Harry forgets what he's saying, then, losing himself to the intensity of Louis everywhere, taking up all of his senses, lost in the motion of pressing against him and hearing low moans in response.

He swears when Louis manages to push a cold hand against him, stroking him and immediately adding to the feelings. He gasps and arches up, though, when something sharp touches his skin.

His eyes flutter open, Louis' breath ghosting over his face, and that's when he sees them. Fangs, on either side of Louis' front teeth, sharp and blindingly white, so close to Harry's neck.

"Louis?" he rasps. "Louis!"

And it takes a few seconds for Louis to open his eyes and notice Harry's attempt to get his attention, but when he does, Harry can see the moment realisation hits and he sits up, covering his mouth with his palm.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

"What's going on?"

"Your blood... It smells so fucking good."

"You can smell my blood?"

Louis nods, eyes large and scared, his hand still covering his teeth.

"Louis," Harry says quietly, pushing himself up on his elbows. "What are you?"

"I'm... I'm half vampire," Louis tells him, words muffled by his hand as he looks away, breathing laboured.

"Which half?" Harry looks him over, making connections, now, between his cold skin and heightened senses.

"My real dad, he was one," Louis explains, "I don't need to, like, drink from people or anything. I still need to eat and stuff, just... sometimes I need a little extra."

"Like when you were ill in class?"

"Yeah."

"Blood?" Harry asks quietly.

Louis nods, finally lowering his hand. The fangs are gone. "Animal blood. I swear, this is the first time I've lost control like this. I really didn't mean to scare you."

"I believe you," Harry tells him, sitting up properly with Louis still on his lap, leaning in to press his ear to his chest. "Your heart is beating," he says. "You're breathing. You're alive."

"Yes," Louis sighs, fingers curling in Harry's hair.

"Will you grow old?" he whispers, and doesn't add, _with me_.

"Yes," Louis repeats. "It seems so."

"Good," Harry nods, nuzzling at Louis' chest gently. "Then it's okay. I know it was an accident."

Louis nods, sighing. "Sorry for ruining things."

"It's alright. Thank you for explaining. Even if you didn't have much choice." Harry smiles gently when Louis laughs, feeling his chest loosen.

"Thanks for not running away. I'm not supposed to tell people, for obvious reasons."

Harry nods, imagining how the rest of the school would react, how parents might take the news that their kids are in a building with a vampire, even a half one.

"Explains why you're so beautiful," he smiles, straightening so he can look at Louis' face.

"Doesn't explain why you are though," Louis replies and laughs when Harry blushes deeply. "Hey, I like you, Styles."

"Because my blood smells like honey?"

"No, you prat," Louis grins. "And it doesn't smell like honey. It smells like iron."

"How is that inviting?"

"It is to me."

Harry smiles, because he isn't sure what else to do, and kisses Louis confidently, encouraging him to relax against him again.

They keep things slow for the rest of lunch, never losing contact but not pushing things at all. It's still Louis, but Harry feels like he's learning him again, humbled to have his attention and pleased that he knows, now, something that very few others do. The trust is incredible, and Louis doesn't have to ask him to keep it quiet, because he wouldn't ever give this precious thing to anyone.

He sits through his afternoon classes with a broad smile on his face and doesn't realise he's starving until he sits down to dinner and remembers that he hasn't eaten since breakfast. Louis winks at him from the Slytherin table and all is good. So very good.

They manage to see each other again a few times during the following week, hiding in a broom cupboard or empty classroom again, but neither of them push it past snogging and Harry guesses that Louis is afraid to lose control again, afraid to scare Harry with his natural instincts. Harry isn't scared though. He's just waiting for the right time to tell Louis he trusts him just as much as Louis must have trusted him to tell him the truth. Enough to let Louis have exactly what he wants.

In the common room, Harry idly draws in the margins of his notes, staring at his Divination book and thinking about what he and Louis were doing when he last looked at the page, when Niall falls into the seat beside him.

"Okay, so you're different."

Harry rolls his eyes, but can't find it in himself to deny it.

"Did you get laid? Oh my god, you totally got laid." Niall grins, making an excited sound, and moves to sit facing him completely. "Tell me about her."

"You're getting it all wrong," Harry assures him, keeping his voice down to encourage Niall to do the same.

"Fine, sure," Niall doesn't look at all convinced. "But come on, what's going on?"

Harry pauses for a moment, thinking over Niall's words. “Okay, fine, I did get laid, but-”

“Holy fuck, you did?!”

“Keep it down!”

“Okay, okay.” Niall seems to try to collect himself, leaning in even closer before he speaks again. “I wanna know everything. Was it good? Weird? Did you have a condom?”

“Oh my god...” Harry groans.

“I need to know! I don't wanna make the same mistakes as you, man.”

“Who said I made any mistakes?”

"Well, you're... _you_ ," Niall tells him, as if that's enough of an answer. Harry nods, allowing it.

"I didn't make any big mistakes, okay. And it wasn't that kind of getting laid." Harry blushes at the thought of going that far.

"Oooh, right. Explains why you didn't screw up, yet," Niall laughs, avoiding Harry's hand trying to hit him. "Sorry, I'll listen, now, properly.

"Thanks. So, yeah, it's... It's going okay," Harry smiles stupidly, pleased to be able to say it out loud.

"Who is it?!" Niall breathes impatiently with a massive grin on his face, far more excited than he should be.

"Will you swear not to tell anyone?" Harry asks, and Niall must have seen something in his eyes that gave him away because he suddenly sits back up, very slowly, eyes comically huge as he stares at Harry.

"You said..." he begins, leaning back in when he remembers they have to be quiet. "You said Tomlinson was gay..."

"He is," Harry confirms, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him before he takes a deep breath and adds, "And so am I."

Niall takes half a second, and grins, proving to Harry why they became friends in the first place. He never judges anyone for something so simple. "God, this is awesome. I have a gay best friend."

"This isn't about you, Niall," Harry laughs, his chest loosening pleasantly. "So... It's okay?"

"It's awesome. You started strong, at least," Niall holds his hand up for a high five, then reconsiders. "You've washed your hands, right?"

"Don't be a dick."

Niall waggles his eyebrows, making Harry giggle in spite of himself. "So yeah," he says, "he's worth it."

"Now, will you tell me about the sex?"

"Do you still want to hear it?"

Niall seems to consider it. "Maybe just a little bit?"

"Maybe you set this one, so I don't give you answers you don't want."

Niall nods, seeming thankful. "Okay. How did this happen?"

"I sort of kissed him on the way back from Hogsmeade," Harry smiles, shifting to sit closer to Niall, ignoring how childish they are in their ways. "That's why I was acting weird."

"Ah, right. I thought maybe you got it on with a stranger or something."

"Niall!"

"What? You didn't tell me anything, I had to guess. Is he any good?"

"He's fantastic," Harry sighs. "I mean, have you seen him? He's so pretty."

"For a bloke, maybe," Niall allows. "What happened next?"

"Well, I told you I needed to talk to him, right, so we hid in a broom cupboard..." Niall snorts at that. "And he asked if I wanted to try it again so we did and it just sort of... escalated."

Niall hides his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed on Harry's behalf. "You mean your first time was in a broom cupboard."

"Well... Yeah."

"You're priceless, Harry Styles."

Harry blushes, shaking his head. "It just happened, okay? I didn't plan it like that."

"Guess you can never really plan it, can you?"

"It's not like we have a whole lot of options," Harry points out. "It's been nothing but broom cupboards and empty classrooms since then."

"That's a real shame, mate," Niall says sincerely.

"Yeah..." Harry agrees, allowing himself to wonder, just for a moment, what it would be like to be out and open with it, to kiss Louis whenever and wherever he wanted. But they aren't even dating, he tells himself, so it would be weird to ask.

"Is it exclusive?"

"As far as I know. He's not sleeping with Stan any more, at least."

"So that was legit? I knew he was acting too sour about you swapping places with him in potions. Did I ever apologise for that thing?"

"No, but it's okay," Harry waves it aside, still smilingly despite himself. "I just... I really like him, Niall."

"I know you do, mate," Niall pats his shoulder comfortingly.

“I want to be his boyfriend,” he adds quietly.

“Harry, you know what the purebloods are like, right?” Niall asks carefully.

“ _I'm_ pureblood.”

“Yeah, but your family are worse blood traitors than the Weasleys. What I'm saying is, it isn't only blood that matters to families like the Tomlinsons. They're conservative as fuck.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “I know. I guess he won't want to come out any time soon.”

"You can always talk to him about it."

"But what if he just shuts me down and doesn't want it to get that serious?"

Niall shrugs, frowning a little. "I guess in that case, you two never wanted the same thing in the first place. But if he's let it be exclusive, he probably wants something else, too. So you just have to try."

Harry nods, tipping forward to rest his head on the table. "This is so difficult."

"Yeah, that's relationships for you, mate."

"Spoken like a true expert," Harry mumbles.

"Shut up. I'm working on it."

It gets easier, though, after his talk with Niall, because it means Harry gets to talk about Louis all he wants between the times he gets to see him. Niall is patient and kind, and Harry only wishes he could tell him the entire truth about Louis, because he knows Niall would accept it. But he can't let Louis down, so he goes to the library instead, and does his research.

He manages to get Louis to spend his afternoon in the library with him a couple of days later, even if Louis claims he's never set foot in such a boring place before. Harry reassures him that they can only pretend to do homework, and Louis smiles at that, pushing his chair a little closer to Harry's where they're sat in a corner out of view from Madam Pince.

"So..." Harry says quietly, turning fully towards Louis. "I did some research and I have a few questions.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Of course you did research. Alright, shoot."

"Can you see in the dark?"

"Yeah," Louis grins. "So you can't hide."

"That's pretty cool, actually."

"It's the coolest. Helps a lot with sneaking around at night, too," Louis winks, and Harry feels his heart speed up, made worse because he knows Louis can hear it.

"Are your reflexes really good?"

"They're pretty good. I can't class it against yours because you're overly clumsy," Louis smiles, reminding Harry of when he tried to pick up stuff for them in Divination, cups and saucers, and managed to break several. “But I can't play Quidditch,” he adds and the smile drains from his face. “It would be too obvious, and the sun...”

“You can't be in the sun at all?”

“I can, but not for long. It feels like a hangover that's just getting worse and worse.”

“God, I'm really sorry,” Harry says earnestly.

“Don't be. I never learnt to appreciate it,” Louis shrugs.

"So even just sitting in sunlight in a classroom is bad?" Harry looks around, wondering if the well lit room is too much for Louis.

"That's not so bad. I mostly just move to the shade, honestly," Louis smiles, "and yeah, this is fine."

"Broomstick classes must have been hell," Harry frowns, thinking back to how long they spend outdoors, working themselves out.

"I get classes in the evening, instead. All the teachers know, so it's okay," Louis explains. "They kind of have to, in case I start to get drained."

"And if you do?"

"Blood," Louis supplies, and it's the first time Harry's seen him look ashamed.

"It's fine," Harry hastens to say. "I know you need it, and I don't mind."

"Most people find it disgusting."

"I'm not most people," Harry promises. Louis gives him a small smile. "So, I read that few victims of vampire bites survive because it's too difficult to... stop drinking."

"Yeah..." Louis says, looking down. "But I don't drink human blood. And I get full really quickly. I'm only allowed half a pint a week."

"Do you forget a lot?"

"Yeah, I sort of put it off as long as I can. Pomfrey usually tracks me down and tells me off, though. She's really good about it, really. Never acted disgusted with me," Louis speaks in a tone that suggests other people have, and it makes Harry feel a kind of helpless need to protect him.

"It's not like you can help it. It's just who you are."

"Not everyone gets that, sadly."

"It's just like the discrimination against werewolves, isn't it?" Harry asks.

"It's exactly like that," Louis agrees. "Except there are a lot more werewolves out there with magic. Full vampires can't be wizards, and as far as I can tell it's really uncommon for the few half vampires that are born to have magic in their blood."

"So you're special," Harry tells him, risking a touch to his cheek.

"Or just really, bloody unfortunate," Louis replies with a self-deprecating smile. "My dad still pretends I'm human."

"But then, how do you get what you need every week?"

"My mum's a little better. She helps me out and my dad pretends it isn't happening. It's kinda fucked, but better one of them than them both ignoring it," Louis shrugs, seeming not to see a big problem.

"I still think it's unfair," Harry tells him, pouting a little.

"I know, Harold. But I'm alright, honestly."

"Okay," Harry says, looking around to make sure no one's there before he presses a kiss to Louis' cool lips. "I want you to touch me again," he whispers against his lips. "I'm not scared."

"I don't want to risk hurting you," Louis tells him, eyes darting around the bookshelves too before reaching out for Harry's hair.

"I don't care about that."

"Harry..."

"I trust you," Harry argues. "And you said yourself that you get full really quickly."

"Do you have any idea what you're offering?"

"Yeah," Harry tells him, "and I'm okay with it."

Louis looks at him like he's crazy, and shakes his head. "I'm not sure that's a safe idea, you know. I've never even tasted human blood before. I don't know how I'd react if I were to actually... do that."

"You'll be okay. I trust you."

"At least one of us does," Louis mutters, looking around as if he's sure somebody is going to know what they're talking about.

"Hey, Louis, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Are we secret?"

Louis looks at him for a moment, eyes bright blue and so sharp, before he sighs, taking Harry's hand under the table. "Harry..." he starts and Harry knows he's going to be disappointed. "You know I'm not ashamed. I'm not. But I'm not of age yet and if my dad found out... I don't think I'd be allowed to come back home."

"Okay," Harry says quietly. "But will he though? I mean, the teachers won't tell."

"He works at the Ministry, it might get out. I just... I'm not ready to be out yet."

Harry nods, sighing. "I bet my mum would let you live with us if you got kicked out," he mutters, and Louis laughs.

"I'm not sure she'd approve of you bringing home a gay half vampire."

"She'd love you," Harry insists. "She's great."

Louis smiles weakly. "She must be, I mean, look at you."

Harry looks up, feeling himself smile like and idiot, before he kisses Louis again, more insistent this time, and holds him close. "I just want to be with you," he tells him.

"You are," Louis replies, wrapping his fingers around Harry's wrists and pushing them away gently.

"But we should probably go somewhere else."

Harry nods, reluctantly, and lets Louis help him pack up his stuff, dropping his hand when they leave the table and letting him lead the way to another abandoned room where they won't be seen. It feels almost like cheating at being a couple, being so secretive, but at least Niall knows, so he's not totally hiding it. He wouldn't tell anyone.

"So can I tell anyone back home?" Harry asks, shutting the door behind them.

"Only if you really trust them," Louis answers, setting his bag down by a table and sitting on the surface, gesturing for Harry to join him.

Harry walks straight up to him and pushes his knees apart enough for him to get in between so he can wrap his arms around him. Louis places his hands on Harry's hips, relaxing into the embrace.

"Okay," he says at last.

"Okay, what?"

"I'll sleep with you again. Properly. It's not like there's much point to this if I don't."

Harry pretends that he isn't hurt by that sentiment, and squeezes Louis a little tighter.

"You don't have to, not right now," Harry says, because otherwise it'll feel like a favour, and that wasn't what he wanted at all.

"I'd like to," Louis tells him, and Harry lets himself believe it, ducking to nuzzle until his jaw and breathe him in, appreciating how their height difference is momentarily non-existent. Louis hums, tilting his head back, his pulse racing under Harry's touch, and it's all the confirmation he needs that right now, they both want to be there.

He doesn't know if it's because Louis' still scared, or if it's because he genuinely wants to, but before Harry can manage to get into his trousers, Louis turns them around and drops to his knees. Harry can do nothing but stare as Louis pulls his pants down and suddenly takes him in his mouth, eyes never leaving Harry's as he sucks him down.

It doesn't feel like anything Harry's ever done before, so much softer and wetter and better in every way. Louis' mouth isn't hot but it's not cold either, and he doesn't bat an eye as he takes him all the way, probably more in control of his reflexes than he lets on.

Harry shakily manages to find his way to tangling his fingers in Louis' hair, and gets a hum of appreciation that he feels all the way through his body in return. It's amazing, because even though Louis isn't touching him anywhere else, except for hands pressing against his hips for grip, it's like he's everywhere at once, and Harry can't decide if he wants to close his eyes and just revel in the feeling of it, or if he wants to risk it all ending a lot sooner by keeping eye contact.

Louis seems completely content in front of him, acting as if it's something he's done many times, which Harry realises it might be. Somehow, that doesn't take away the beauty of it.

Right now, it's just about them.

Harry tries to warn him but Louis' a lot stronger than Harry is and he doesn't move an inch when Harry feebly tries to push him away the moment he can't hold back his orgasm any longer. He comes into Louis' mouth, his legs so wobbly he has to grip the table to keep from sagging. Louis' so obscenely neat about it, licking Harry clean without a drop of spill before he tucks him back in and gets to his feet.

"You're amazing," Harry breathes in astonishment, pulling Louis close immediately.

Louis laughs quietly, letting Harry shower his face in kisses before finally pressing against his soft lips, interested in the taste of himself against Louis. "You're brilliant," he whispers, feeling the need to get his sentiment across again without saying the words he really wants to.

"So are you. You're beautiful," Louis tells him sincerely, resting his hand against the side of Harry's face tenderly, looking at him as if he'll never tire of it.

"Can I try it?" Harry asks shyly, resting their foreheads together.

"If you want to," Louis laughs, accepting the kiss Harry presses to his lips and draws out for as long as he can, feeling Louis' hands roam over his chest appreciatively.

He's definitely nervous when he unbuckles Louis' belt and sinks to his knees, definitely a little shaky when he wraps his fingers around him and watches Louis' eyes flutter shut, but he doesn't have to worry about Louis losing control like this, and Louis seems to feel it too, reaching out to stroke Harry's hair gently, comforting him.

He lets Louis guide him, trying for confidence and keeping his eyes on Louis' expression as he tests the boundaries, tasting him curiously, slowly learning what things get him to gasp and breathe in shakily, making beautiful sounds that Harry never wants to stop.

It's more difficult than he'd expected, especially after Louis' complete control, but he feels like he isn't doing as bad as he could.

And he likes it. He likes the weight on his tongue and the way Louis moves his hips in tiny circles and more than anything, he likes Louis' fingers in his hair, tightening as he starts moaning in earnest.

"You're doing so good," Louis murmurs from above him and Harry hums, taking him a little deeper, careful not to choke. "Fuck, I'm close."

Harry smiles around him, keeping his eyes trained on Louis' face. Their eyes meet for a second, and Harry wonders if he's going to see his fangs again, but then Louis' spilling into Harry's mouth and he's too busy swallowing it all down to notice.

He misses some, because he wasn't quite ready for the texture, the entire experience, but he mostly feels proud of himself for doing so well, for the way Louis is still recovering, breathing heavily and smiling at him softly.

"Come here," Louis tugs him to his feet, and waits until Harry's done cleaning him up properly before kissing him, smiling still against his lips as they rest against each other. "That was really good, Harry."

"You sure?"

"Fuck, yes, I'm sure."

"Did you..." Harry mumbles, nuzzling at his neck shyly. "Did you want to bite me?"

Louis pulls back a little to look him in the eyes. "I always want to," he says very quietly, and Harry can feel his breath catch a little. "You smell so fucking good."

"But your fangs...”

"I was prepared this time," Louis tells him. "I can control it. Don't worry."

Harry isn't worried. He's disappointed. But he can't tell him that because Louis so clearly doesn't want to hurt him.

He stays quiet about it, focusing more on the gentle flush on Louis' pale cheeks that proves the blood rushing in his veins, and feels honestly proud of himself.

"I'd like to do that again some time," he announces, as bold as he can.

"Yeah? So would I," Louis nuzzles along his jaw, breathing him in, and Harry nearly trembles with anticipation, before Louis pulls back, taking a deep breath. “There are so many things I'd like to do with you,” he says.

“Yeah?” Harry breathes, lazily stroking up and down Louis' sides under his untucked shirt.

Louis hums, pressing a kiss to Harry's mouth. “I want to see you naked,” he smiles. Harry blushes. “And I want to be the one to take your virginity,” he whispers, making Harry whine low in his throat.

“You've done it before?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Louis hums. “A few times.”

"So you know how to be careful, then?"

"I'll be really careful. But only when you're ready," Louis smiles. "It's up to you."

"I'm ready whenever we have time. I want to do it right, though. If we can. Not just a quick thing in a cupboard," Harry tells him confidently. "Have you... Have you ever had..."

"Have I ever bottomed?" Louis asks, eyebrow raised while Harry blushes. "Yeah, it's great. You'll love it."

Harry feels like he can't quite get his breathing under control. He wonders if Louis knows what he's doing to him, standing there and saying such dirty things all seductively, and realises that he probably does. Bloody vampires.

"It's the Christmas hols soon," Harry says. Louis frowns a little.

"Yeah..?"

"Are you staying here?"

"Um, I could. I mean, I don't particularly fancy going home, to be honest."

"I want to stay too," Harry tells him. "All the boys are going home, so we'd have my dorm..."

"That sounds good," Louis smiles. "Are you sure you want to give up Christmas with your family for me?"

Harry nods, not even sure why they're questioning it. "Of course. I won't be on my own anyway, I'll be with you. We'll be fine. I'll even maybe get you a present."

Louis frowns, pulling back just slightly to look at him. "You really want to get me something?"

"Sure, why not? That's what... friends do." Harry risks a half smile, hoping his slip didn't give away his wishes.

"Well," Louis smirks. "You know what you'll be getting from me."

Harry smiles wider, and kisses his mouth.

It's a week later when Harry brings it up with his friends. They're in their dormitory, everyone getting ready for bed, and Harry sits on the edge of his, fiddling with his wand.

"I'm staying here over the holidays," he says to no one in particular.

"What?" comes Liam's reply from the next bed. "Why?"

"I just don't feel like going home," Harry shrugs. Niall gives him a knowing look.

"Is Tomlinson staying?" Zayn asks, trying to sound innocent.

"I guess," Harry replies vaguely.

"Look," Liam speaks up, walking around his bed and leaning against the post. "We're not stupid, you know. We know something's up with you two." Harry looks at his wand. "I've no idea what you see in him," Liam continues, "but you've been sneaking off with him for weeks, doing god knows what, and it's pretty obvious that he's not just a friend to you."

Harry curls up in his sheets uncomfortably, eyes darting over to Niall, who stares back with a sort of pained expression, shifting slightly as if he's completely ready to come and support Harry in whatever he says. He's so grateful for Niall.

"So what if I like spending time with him? He's a good person," Harry insists, feeling a stab of frustration when Liam just huffs a patronising laugh. He always seems so sure that he understands the most, and Harry is too young.

"So that's what you do with him? 'Spend time'." The quotation marks are obvious in his voice as he looks at Harry with raised eyebrows.

"Yes," Harry confirms. "What exactly is your problem, Liam?"

"My problem is that you're lying to us," Liam replies hotly.

"What do you think I'm trying to hide?" Harry ignores the rising feeling of stress and panic in his chest, the need to just tell Liam rivalled by the fear that he'll take it so badly that everybody will know within minutes because he's shouting down the tower.

"Well you could just tell us? I'm sure we're all dying to know." Liam looks so pissed off, Harry wonders if the truth has even slightly crossed his mind, and how hurt he would be if he knew how much Niall has been told.

"For god's sake, Liam!" Niall cries out suddenly. "Is this because he's a Slytherin or a bloke, huh? Or maybe it's just because he's better than you at Potions."

"That's got nothing to do with-"

"Can't you see that Harry's happy?" Niall goes on. "Louis makes him happy and don't you dare give him shit for it."

"Wait," Harry interjects. "You know?"

"We know you two are hooking up," Zayn clarifies calmly. "I think Liam's just pissed because you didn't tell us."

"Then who told you?"

"No one," Liam answers. "As I said, we're not stupid."

Harry flushes, looking down and playing with the strands of his blanket, fraying at the edges like his own thoughts. "He said not to tell anyone."

Zayn finally gets out of bed and walks over, rubbing Harry's back comfortingly. "It's alright, mate."

"No it isn't," Liam counters. "Why can't you talk about it? How serious is this?" Harry realises then that underneath the anger, it's the only way Liam knows how to deal with his concern for Harry's safety.

"He's good to me," he says, looking at Liam. "He really is. He just doesn't want people to know."

"Why not?"

"Because of his family," Harry explains. "You know the Tomlinsons. They'd kick him out."

Liam sighs. "Alright, but is he like, your boyfriend?"

Harry looks down at his blanket again. "No," he admits quietly. "Louis doesn't do relationships."

"Is it exclusive?" Zayn asks gently, features soft in the half light of their room.

"Yeah."

"That sounds like a relationship to me, then."

"I know. I just... I don't know how to to this," Harry tells them all. "I'm not good at relationships, either."

"Nobody is, you make it up as you go," Niall offers his wise words again, earning a weak smile from Harry.

"Are you sure you want this?" Liam checks, clearly looking for a way out of their situation that works out for everyone.

"Yes."

There's a short silence in which Harry looks around at them all, thinking how ironic it is that he's the first one to actually _do_ something with someone aside from clumsy kisses that might not even have been real, according to Niall. He'd said Liam was just bragging, and Harry hadn't really cared.

"So are you, like..." Zayn starts hesitantly, "sleeping with him or something?"

"Or something," Harry nods, smiling slightly. "He knows what he's doing."

"Jesus," Liam blurts. "And you'll be spending Christmas together here? Just the two of you?"

Harry blushes a little, but feels elated too because, damn, he's having sex and Liam isn't.

"It won't be just the two of us. Other students stay, too."

"Yeah but, you know what I mean." Harry does know, and he's only just letting himself think about it, grinning through his blush.

"It's going to be an interesting few weeks," he allows, and it's clear from the expressions on his friends' facts that they all understand the implications of staying through Christmas when there are less people.

"Just... keep to your own bunk, mate," Liam tells him and walks over to his bed, making Niall and Zayn laugh nervously while Harry just grins and crawls under the covers. Not once had they questioned him being with a boy, and not once had they told him it wasn't alright. Harry is so glad he's a Gryffindor.

In the few weeks leading up to the holidays, Harry and Louis keep seeing each other in secret, making vague plans and kissing until their lips are bitten raw. Harry doesn't dare to bring up Louis' promise, but he thinks about it all the time. How he'll take him up to his dormitory, letting him into his bed. It's the single most exciting Christmas he's ever had.

On the last day of classes though, Louis storms into Potions and pulls Harry with him to his table without a word. Harry doesn't need to ask to know that he and Stan have been fighting again, and it isn't difficult to imagine why.

Niall watches them in despair as Stan drops his stuff angrily at his desk and slumps onto a chair. Across the room, Harry grimaces apologetically while Niall awkwardly starts up conversation, and is immediately shut down.

"Trouble in Slytherin?" Harry asks, getting a glare for his troubles.

"He's just being an idiot again. Doesn't understand that I'm not interested in that stuff any more."

"And you told him..." Harry questions quietly, letting Louis fill in the rest of the sentence.

"That I just don't want to," he finishes. "But then he started questioning it and kept on dragging you into the conversation so I had to tell him, innit? He probably hates your guts now."

"Probably?" Harry asks in disbelief. "What if he murders me in cold blood?"

"Don't be so fucking dramatic," Louis says irritably. "He can't do shit."

"He looks like he's willing to try," Harry intones, looking away because he's almost certain that if he keeps eye contact with Stan for a second longer, he'll be able to feel the daggers he's staring into him.

"He touches you, and I'll knock him out, and he knows I'm stronger. You're fine."

Harry remains unsure, but keeps his eyes on the table, flinching whenever he makes contact with Louis because it all feels so much more upsetting to Stan, and he wants to minimise the damage caused.

“Exactly how strong are you?” Harry asks halfway through their lesson when the silence , along with Stan's presence, are starting to grate on his nerves . Louis glances at him, from where he's reading the text book.

“Strong enough,” he mutters, going back to reading.

“To take Stan out?”

“To take anyone out.”

Harry considers for a moment how dangerous Louis really is, and wonders if it's a fault of his that he isn't more scared of him. Louis says it in such a casual tone that Harry can't tell if he's tested his answer, or if he's being optimistic. He decides not to question it, wary of finding out just how much danger he could potentially be in, and realising what a bad idea trying to make Louis bite him is.

They mostly work in silence, with students talking quietly around them, but it's nowhere near as comfortable as usual. Harry feels on edge, and his muscles are tense from how heavy the air around him feels. He can't help but glance over at Stan every now and again, and then back to Louis, wondering if he should have just stayed out of it from the start.

When the lesson finally ends though, leaving all of them free as birds for the next couple of weeks, Louis doesn't take off towards the Great Hall for dinner, but pulls Harry along with him until they're out of sight in an empty corridor, hidden behind a massive coat of armour. And when he kisses him, a desperation in his urgency that he's never shown before, Harry knows he couldn't have stayed away if he tried.

It's not at all how careful Louis usually is, which only makes everything more intense when he secures Harry against the wall and pushes a hand down his uniform, breathing heavily into what barely counts as a kiss any more, and Harry rushes to mirror him, actions clumsy because he can't keep his eyes open.

He wants to ask if this is such a good idea, because if someone walks down the corridor, they're busted, but he doesn't want to stop, so he allows the risk. Louis smells like potions fumes and Christmas, sweet and warm, and Harry's so gone for him it's ridiculous, choking on his own breaths as Louis strokes him fast and hard behind the old armour.

It's over in just a few minutes, Harry coming hard all over his shirt and managing to get Louis off just a short while later, sucking bruises into his neck because he knows Louis loves it. No one comes walking down the corridor, and they're still alone when they've caught their breaths and cleaned themselves up.

"What was that for?" Harry asks, fixing Louis' hair for him.

"Just... Needed to be with you," Louis answers, tucking his face into Harry's neck and breathing in.

"We've got weeks to be with each other," Harry laughs, but he understands the sentiment, could almost feel the possessive feelings rolling off him in waves as he dragged Harry out of class

"Why wait?"

It's a good point, and one Harry is glad Louis made, because that makes it feel almost like maybe Louis feels how Harry does, about what they're doing.

"Everyone's going home tomorrow," Harry mumbles against his neck, smiling.

"But Christmas isn't until Monday so you'll have to wait patiently for your present, Styles," Louis answers, making Harry's face fall a bit. Louis just laughs at him. "So easy," he chuckles. "I'm joking. You can have me whenever you want, babe."

Harry pokes him in the stomach. "Have you got...like, stuff?"

"Stuff? So specific," Louis grins. "Yeah, I've got 'stuff'."

Harry nods, wondering briefly where Louis would get that, and how long he's been waiting to use it with him.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asks shakily, earning another laugh.

"You're eager, aren't you?" Harry doesn't bother denying it, nodding truthfully. "Well, apparently, I'm fucking you into the mattress in your own dorm room."

Harry whines, closing his eyes at his tone. Tomorrow is too far away.

"And I'll make it last," Louis goes on, voice having dropped a few notes. "I'll make you scream my name when you come..."

"Stop it!" Harry hisses at him. "No teasing."

"I'm just being honest," Louis smirks, dragging Harry out from behind their hiding place. "Let's go have dinner. You're gonna need your strength."

When Harry sits with his friends at the table, they all share knowing looks at his blushing skin. Niall just smirks, and gives him a plate.

They don't do much that night, except homework. Everybody is eager to finish as much as they can before the holidays really start, so they don't have to worry so much. The others plan to finish up some more on the train, but Harry knows he'll be doing something very different.

"Hey, Harry?" Niall says when Harry's half asleep on one of the couches, thinking about Louis as usual.

"Yeah?" he replies, shifting a bit so Niall can lean close from where he's sat on the floor just by Harry's chest.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure.”

"Do you love Louis?"

Harry hesitates, and that's all Niall needs to smile widely, looking almost as besotted as Harry feels.

"That's adorable," Niall tells him, only half jokingly, and Harry tells him to fuck off before the others hear.

"Is he, like, The One?"

"How should I know?"

"God, I really want to fall in love," Niall sighs dramatically, startling a laugh out of Harry.

"Seriously?"

"Yes!" Niall insists. "Of course. And I want to snog."

"Obviously," Harry laughs, rolling his eyes.

"So what did your mum say when you told her you'd be staying?"

"She asked if it was because of a girl," Harry replies with some disgust. "And I ended up going with it because apparently it's alright for me to miss Christmas so I can be with my future wife."

"Aren't you gonna tell her the truth?"

"Eventually. But it's not like I actually have a boyfriend to introduce her to anyway." He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice but he's not sure he's succeeding. Niall pats his leg comfortingly, looking faintly hopeful.

"You never know. Maybe after this holiday, things will change a little."

Harry sighs, wanting so hard to believe Niall but not sure what it would take for that change to happen.

"Yeah, maybe."

The next day, Harry follows his friends down to the Entrance Hall to say goodbye. Niall hugs him tightly, wishing him good luck with a grin, and Harry punches him lightly in the shoulder for it. Zayn is spending Christmas with Liam as his family don't celebrate it, and they both wave merrily before taking off towards the carriages that will take them to the train.

Harry walks up the stairs slowly, watching the remaining students milling about while he searches for Louis in the crowd. It's just after lunch, and they're in no hurry, but Harry wouldn't mind spending every minute of his holiday with him, shagging or not.

Harry looks everywhere, even daring to check briefly in the dungeons, because Louis wouldn't be outside or in the library by choice, but he doesn't find him.

To make things easier for Louis, Harry brings his books to the hall and sets up there, right in the middle of the table held for Gryffindor. Louis could be doing anything, even sleeping, but a small part of him is scared Louis left with the others, and Harry is stranded.

He's on his second cup of tea when he suddenly feels cold fingers cover his eyes. "Guess who?" Louis says from behind him.

"It's not much of a challenge when your body temperature is several degrees below normal," Harry smiles, taking Louis' hand away from his face.

"You're impressed by my stealth though," Louis grins and flops down next to him.

"Never seen you be silent before in my life," Harry admits, turning so he's facing Louis properly.

"I can be quiet if I want to be," Louis practically purrs, before looking down at Harry's books. "God, that looks really boring. What is it?"

"Divination," Harry laughs, agreeing with him.

"You started that hellish thing without me? No fair, Styles. You stop that until I've had time to get my books." Harry didn't expect Louis to actually want to work, but understands his desire to get it over with so they can do whatever they please for the rest of the holiday.

He watches Louis have a look around at the empty hall and then there's a blur of movement, Louis moving so fast Harry can't keep up with it. He's gone before Harry can blink, and he just sits there with his jaw open until Louis returns, not 20 seconds later, with his books.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry says, staring, as Louis spreads parchment over the table at a completely normal pace.

"Hm?" Louis hums and Harry can't tell if he's faking ignorance or not.

Harry just stares at him, not bothering to answer because they both know what he's talking about.

"How annoying is it to be so slow all the time?" He asks, instead, because knowing you can be that fast and having to patiently wait in crowds of students must be endlessly frustrating.

"You have no idea," Louis smiles, leaning over to look at Harry's work without even trying to be discreet.

"It's just so..." Harry begins, staring at Louis' mouth. "Sexy."

Louis looks up. "What?" he asks.

"You. Everything about you," Harry replies earnestly. Louis frowns a little.

"It's not supposed to-" he starts, interrupting himself. "I'm not trying to impress you."

"What?" Harry says confusedly. "I mean, I know you're not but everything you can do, it's just so amazing."

"Harry, I'm not even human."

"You're mostly human. And what does that matter? You were born into it, it wasn't a choice." Harry shrugs easily. "It's just another really attractive aspect of who you are."

It's Louis' turn to stare, looking completely unsure of Harry's existence.

"You honestly don't care, do you? That I'm not like you."

"I care," Harry insists, "but I'm not going to freak out about it, if you're still waiting."

Louis sits back, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. He's so beautiful and he doesn't even know it. It hits Harry that while Louis might not be ashamed of his sexuality, he might still be ashamed of who he is. _What_ he is.

"You've never killed anyone," Harry says quietly. "You're not a dark creature."

"Vampires don't kill because they want to," Louis replies quietly. "Neither do werewolves. It's not their fault."

"No, I know," Harry nods. "And it's not _your_ fault that you need blood. I'm not afraid, okay? I know you'd never hurt me. Or anyone else."

Louis nods quietly, managing a weak smile that tells Harry all he needs to know about how rarely he hears words like that, and makes him determined to help Louis feel like he's allowed to be himself.

"Now, have some tea and get ready for some Divination," Harry tells him, pushing the teapot that never runs out towards him. Louis laughs, and his thanks are so quiet Harry almost misses it.

They have dinner at the Gryffindor table that evening, and the few remaining Gryffindors aside from Harry keep giving them odd looks but Harry doesn't care. He's so pleased to have Louis all to himself that he can't stop grinning, stealing bites from Louis' plate every now and again. He walks with Louis back to the dungeons afterwards, so Louis can drop of his books, but he stays safely outside the door to the Slytherin common room. He certainly doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he already has.

Louis comes out smiling, dressed in jeans and a jumper, and Harry had never even thought of what Louis would look like without his school uniform. He's gorgeous, of course.

"So, ready to show me to your secret tower?"

Harry hears a euphemism perhaps where there isn't one, and holds back a blush as he takes Louis' hand, leading him across the castle and up the staircases to the painting, uttering the password and ignoring how the paintings all look at Louis like they know he doesn't properly belong in this section of the school.

"You guys have it a lot cosier," he tells Harry once they get into the common room, looking at the fire that's almost out, the arm chairs and warm colour themes. "I can see why you like it in your house."

"It's not like I personally chose it for the room," Harry counters, smiling as he drags Louis towards the next staircase. There will be time to look around the common room later, when Harry's chest isn't about to burst from anticipation.

"This is your dorm?" Louis says with disbelief in his voice as they enter. "It's so...round."

Harry laughs nervously. "It is a tower," he says, walking over to his bed. "Do you like it?"

"Sure," Louis hums, still looking around for a few seconds before his gaze settles on Harry. "This your bunk then?"

"Mhm.”

"Mine is greener," Louis smiles and pushes Harry onto it, climbing into his lap gracefully. "Sure you want this?" he asks quietly into Harry's ear, flicking his tongue out to lick it.

Harry knows his heart rate is answering for him, the way it jumps when Louis talks to him, so low and quiet. He nods, arms wrapping around his waist securely, tilting his head up to give Louis better access to his neck and going easily when Louis pushes him onto his back.

"Well, if you're so sure," Louis allows, eyes bright as they look at him, and Harry can only smile, pleased and slightly nervous at the knowledge of their plans.

He uses his wand to pull the curtains shut around the bed, just to be safe, before he places it on his night-stand, looking up to see Louis pull something out of his pocket and put it away as well. His breath catches when he realise what it must be, and Louis smiles down at him, slowly easing out of his jumper.

"Relax, Hazza," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss him sweetly, clasping his face gently in his hands and tilting it, slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth.

He tries to comply, pressing up against Louis wantingly and kissing back, trying not to over think. Louis will be careful, and they'll both be fine. Better than fine, even.

Louis helps him take off his shirt, throwing it in the general direction of where his jumper fell, and sits patiently while Harry struggles to pull the shirt over Louis' head, lamenting the height barrier when he's laying down and Louis isn't. It feels good that they can both quietly laugh, and ease the pressure of the moment.

When Louis' chest comes into view though, Harry's laughter dies on his lips as he lets his hands trail over the smooth skin. He doesn't think he can ever get enough of touching Louis like this, seeing him like this, and when he finally looks at Louis' face, there is a softness in his eyes that Harry hasn't noticed before.

"You're perfect," Harry breathes, tugging him down so their chests are pressed together, wrapping an arm around Louis' back and stroking the cool skin there, all the way down to the waistband of his jeans.

Louis hums, a mixture between shy agreement and disbelief, and pushes his hands through Harry's hair, kisses across his face tenderly while Harry explores, slipping a hand under his jeans to stroke further, pleased to hear Louis sigh above him.

"Please take them off," he whispers and Louis laughs quietly, sitting up again and starting to undo the buttons of his jeans.

"So polite," he chides, slipping out of them easily.

"Your pants too," Harry says. "Wanna see you."

"After you then," Louis smirks, sitting back to watch Harry struggle out of his trousers. He's never had a problem with nudity but Louis is so pretty that he hesitates with his thumb inside the waistband of his underwear, biting his lip. "Go on then," Louis urges him softly.

Harry blushes, grateful for the light being poor enough that he doesn't have to see himself too well, even if Louis can. Really, he has no reason to be shy, because Louis has seen him already. Has been so intimate in ways nobody else ever has. But he's still nervous, because having nothing to hide behind is so different.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Louis breathes, sounding completely genuine as Harry shyly relaxes back against the covers.

He reaches out for him, stroking up Harry's thigh before climbing over his leg to settle between Harry's knees, bending forwards and pressing a kiss to his hip.

"You promised," Harry whines, and without taking his lips from Harry's skin, Louis pushes his pants down his legs and steps out of them, lying down on his stomach and pushing Harry's legs apart further.

"Happy?" he mumbles against Harry's skin, flicking his tongue out.

Harry doesn't reply, but lets out a low whine as Louis licks the inside of his thigh, sucking a bruise into his skin there.

It's not enough, he still wants more, but the slow build is nice, takes away the pressure to get everything done so early. He slides a hand into Louis' hair, holding on to the familiar feeling while Louis keeps working at his skin, littering him with small marks that only they'll see, promises that their time together is something lasting, at least physically.

Louis keeps getting closer to more sensitive areas, and ultimately moving away, and eventually Harry makes a low sound again, tugging Louis' hair until he moves up with a soft laugh, kissing him slowly and wrapping a hand confidently around him, dragging a moan from his lips that gets lost in the air between them.

"You okay, babe?" Louis mumbles against his lips, stroking him gently.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry pants, squirming a little.

"Want to continue?"

Harry nods, feeling Louis' erection press into his thigh where he's lying half on top of him. It's reassuring, and Harry isn't scared.

"How do you want to do this?" Louis asks him quietly, and Harry doesn't stop to think about the answer, having worked it out days ago.

"I want to see you," he whispers, smiling helplessly at how touched Louis looks, "I want to see how you feel, too." That, and perhaps, if he's lucky, Louis will give in to the temptation of his blood.

"God... Yes," Louis agrees. "Sure, of course." He sounds nervous, and it makes Harry smile.

He watches him sit up, watches the way his body moves so smoothly. Louis has a narrow waist above fuller hips, a soft stomach, smooth legs. He looks like a model, someone Harry would only have seen in magazines, and it's unreal that he's currently lubing up his fingers to use on _Harry_.

"What?" Louis smiles when he's put the bottle away.

"I think you were sculpted by the gods," Harry says earnestly.

Louis laughs, and just like that, he doesn't look so worried any more. Harry bites his lip and does his best to stay completely still and relaxed, telling himself any discomfort will go away. But there isn't much. Louis takes his time, keeping touch with Harry and checking that he's comfortable.

"You're doing so well," he praises him as he slips a third finger in and Harry manages to relax around them. He smiles, and then gasps in shock as Louis brushes a spot inside him that's so sensitive it feels like a small orgasm rips through him, and he goes a little numb. "You felt that?" Louis smirks, the fingers of his left hand closing over Harry's hip to keep him still.

"Yeah..." Harry breathes, still wide eyed.

"Good, huh?"

"Again," he pleads.

Louis nods, pressing against the area again, and Harry arches up, eyes falling closed in pleasure, and he's not sure he's going to last long if Louis keeps doing that so well, but he doesn't ever want him to stop.

Louis moves away from him, and Harry whines immediately, reaching out for him and pouting. He feels flushed, and it takes a few seconds to realise what's happening, why Louis moved.

"It's okay," he laughs, patting Harry's hip fondly. "You want to get to the good part, right?"

"God, yes."

"Okay," Louis smiles. "Just gonna put a condom on, yeah?"

Harry is still breathing heavily, eyes glassy as he watches Louis rip open the small package he'd left on the night-stand. And finally, finally, Harry is properly nervous, because it hits him like a bludger that he's going to have Louis inside of him, making him feel good, watching him, and he's only fifteen years old but his heart is absolutely aching with how in love he is.

Louis smiles at him, stroking the skin along his thigh gently, breathing so calmly that Harry finds it easy to match him, to just take it slow and not freak out, because it's such a normal, human thing, and he's got Louis Tomlinson in his bed, which is the highlight of his educational career.

When he pushes into Harry, it's nothing like he'd expected or experienced, and he's struck breathless by how intimate it feels. It doesn't hurt, because Louis' got the grace of an angel and Harry can tell that he's using all of his senses to observe the way Harry reacts to it and use it to his advantage. He's got one of Harry's legs hooked around his waist, one arm braced against the mattress and the other hand holding Harry firmly in place around his hip. He's the picture of effortless control, but his eyes are blazing, fixed on Harry's face, giving him every last piece of his attention. Harry's completely gone.

Louis stops, once he's pressed into Harry as far as he can and Harry feels like he's properly complete, so they can both adjust.

"You okay?" he asks breathlessly, and Harry just stares at him, unable to find words, reaching up to pull him down and kiss him in answer. He's better than okay, really. He's never felt more alive. He's almost sad they waited so long, even if they barely waited at all.

Louis kisses him so sweetly. For being such a strong and powerful creature, he gives the most tender kisses, cradling Harry's face, combing through his hair with his small fingers. Harry doesn't even really notice when he starts to move, but suddenly they're just in synch, bodies working in unison against and with each other. It's the most natural physical experience Harry's ever had, far easier than Quidditch has ever been.

Louis' breathing is falling against Harry's chest in soft pants, and he seems so angelic. The moment is somehow perfect, so Harry tilts his head back, exposing his neck, and waits for Louis to notice.

"Harry..." he breathes. "Don't do that."

"But I want you to," Harry whispers, arching his back and driving Louis in deeper without really meaning to. He hits the right spot immediately.

"Fuck..." Louis swears, and Harry can see the moment the fangs appear in his mouth. His movements are erratic, distracted and slowly spinning out of control, so Harry tilts his head again and just waits.

And Louis bites him. Suddenly, there's just searing pain but something bursts inside of him the moment he can feel Louis' teeth sink into his skin. He's coming before he has time to register it, clawing at Louis' back as he's being pinned in place without a chance to escape.

It's the strangest feeling. Harry swears he can feel the blood rushing through him, out of him, into Louis. Swears he can hear his pulse like Louis probably can. Louis has a hand over his shoulder and waist, effectively stopping him from struggling as he moans against Harry's neck, stilling over him and inside him, body tense and trembling, leaving Harry breathless and wondering if he made the right move by encouraging Louis, even though he can't get enough of how close they feel.

And then Harry feels Louis' soft tongue flick out, licking the bite clean, catching a few drops of blood spilling down the vein in Harry's neck. He feels dizzy, light-headed and weak, but he thinks he's fine. He thinks he's never had a better orgasm in his life.

“Are you alright?” Louis finally breathes, and Harry turns to try to look at him.

“Yeah,” he tells him. “I'm alright. You?”

"I... Yeah." Louis seems troubled, and it isn't difficult to guess why. Harry smiles gently, arms wrapping around him fondly as he tries to pull him up again. "I asked you to, didn't I?"

Eventually, Louis dares to peek up at him, skin flushed either from their activities or Harry's blood rushing through his veins, and Harry kisses his forehead, trying to show him that it's okay.

"Why did you do that?" Louis asks, quiet and unsure.

“Because I trust you,” Harry says sincerely. “And it felt amazing.”

“It must have hurt.”

“Just a bit.”

There's a pause before Louis pushes himself up, out of Harry's arms, in order to sit up, slipping out of him. Harry realises how naked he is, but he's too weak to move so he just watches Louis get rid of the condom, reaching for his wand to clean them up.

“How are you feeling?” he asks at last, still not quite looking at Harry.

“I'm fine,” Harry repeats.

“Dizzy?”

“A little.”

Louis sighs, pushing Harry's leg out of the way so he can lie down beside him. “It will heal,” he says quietly. “It's...clean.”

Harry never doubted that. He trusts Louis much more than he expects Louis trusts himself. It's a slightly foolish trust, he's sure, but it's still there. He hasn't seen a true reason to be scared of Louis yet, so he isn't.

Louis is too far away, so Harry drags him closer, curling up against him contentedly, relaxed and comfortable even though Louis hasn't totally joined him in that state. They don't talk for a while, and Harry is almost sure Louis has fallen asleep, until he speaks into the air above them.

"I didn't ever want to do that, Harry. It was so risky."

Harry feels his faint smile vanish in an instant. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles.

“What if I hadn't been able to stop? What if I'd accidentally killed you? Do you realise how stupid that was?”

“I'm so sorry,” he repeats, curling in on himself. “It won't happen again. Promise.”

Louis' quiet for a while and Harry doesn't know how to fix it. He hadn't thought about it like that, hadn't really considered the risks. He'd only wanted to please Louis.

“It was the best sex I've ever had,” Louis tells him suddenly, voice soft and quiet.

Harry isn't sure he believes him, just because he has no experience, and Louis might say that to everyone. It doesn't seem like something he would do, but perhaps he's just trying to comfort Harry.

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Of course," Louis answers, pressing himself just a bit closer, until there's no space between them. "I'm being serious."

"Is that including the... the bite?" Harry glances at him curiously.

"Yes," Louis stares right back, eyes sincere and wide, like he doesn't quite believe he's admitting it even to himself. "It was..." he starts, pausing as if considering his words carefully. "Mind blowing, really."

"Really?"

"I've never felt... that much before, you know?"

Harry does. He nods. "Are you angry at me?"

"A little," Louis admits. "But you're okay. That's... You need to be okay."

"I'm really okay," Harry assures him. "You don't have to worry about me."

"I always worry about you," Louis answers him, like it's obvious, and Harry has to admit he has a point.

"This time, then. I'm alright. And it was amazing.”

"Yeah?"

Nodding comfortingly, Harry risks moving to kiss him, softly enough that Louis could move away without much effort, but is relieved when the opposite happens, and Louis presses into it like he is scared Harry would take it back.

They spend the evening like that, kissing and talking and holding each other until Harry drifts off.

It's the first time they sleep together, and when Harry wakes, he's got Louis in his arms, curled up with his back pressed to Harry's stomach. He pushes his nose into his hair, breathing him in, and wishes he could wake up like this every morning. Louis looks so small and innocent in sleep. He wants to wake him, to see how he acts in that setting, but Louis always looks too tired, so he lets him sleep, keeping hold of him and just getting used to the new day, where nothing has changed around them but he feels completely different. A lot happened in one night, and now he's in the first full day of the break, and cuddling a Slytherin boy in his Gryffindor bed.

It feels like a big deal. Even if he can't really tell anyone.

He gets up eventually, padding to the bathroom and blinking at his own reflection over the sink. He tilts his head to properly see the spot where Louis' teeth had sunken into his neck, but the bite is faded already, skin pink and healed over where there should be traces of blood.

Louis' awake when he comes back, eyelids heavy as he watches Harry sit down beside him in the rumpled sheets.

"It's already almost healed," Harry says as a greeting, and there is probably some disappointment visible in the way he tilts the words, almost a whine.

"It's meant to," Louis replies, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Harry just nods, knowing if he complains too much Louis might get mad again, not sure if he wants to ruin a good moment with something he can't change.

"How am I going to get back downstairs?" Louis suddenly asks, sounding like he'd never considered the next day. "Is there anyone left in here?"

"A few students, I think. Nobody interesting. I'll check, first. Maybe make a diversion if I have to." They should get up to eat, he knows, but it's so nice to just be close, and alone.

And Louis looks so beautiful, his hair mussed up and eyes shining light blue in the winter light. Harry can't help but lean down and kiss him, pulling the sheets back to reveal his naked body, flawless and pale, still cool to the touch. He wants to tell him then, all the truths he has, and all the lies too. He wants to show him that he isn't, and never was, a monster. That he is as close to an angel as any creature could come and Harry loves him. He has no doubt now, that he loves him with everything he's got.

It's a terrifying conclusion, but it makes him smile nevertheless.

"What?" Louis asks, voice slightly infused with laughter as he unashamedly stares up at Harry under his observation, and smiles, the kind that Harry's realises he doesn't use in public, because it doesn't quite fit his easygoing nature. It feels more personal, and Harry feels so blessed to get to see it.

"Nothing. Just... You're so beautiful."

"Yeah, so you keep saying," Louis laughs, but he seems a little less pale, almost like blushing.

"You need to be told," Harry says mildly, smiling gently down at him.

They make it down to breakfast eventually. The common room is empty and so is most of the castle. Louis sits with him at the Gryffindor table again, and afterwards Harry manages to coax him out in the snow for a bit until Louis' movements turn sluggish and his skin so cold it stings. They walk back to the Gryffindor Tower after that, and sits in front of the fire because Harry insists Louis needs to warm up even if Louis, in turn, says he never really freezes.

Harry feeds him hot chocolate he smuggled from the hall and they spend the rest of the day sprawled in front of the fire, eating stuff Louis convinced Harry to let him go to the kitchen for, to prove he's not nearly as fragile as Harry keeps assuming.

Apparently the Gryffindor room is a lot nicer and far warmer than Louis is used to, and he jokes that he's spoiled for his own house now, and claims Harry is out of order for it, but in truth Harry can see the appreciative glances he gives the room, and how he smiles at Harry when he thinks he's looking the other way.

When a tiny second year stops inside the doorway and stares at them, Harry invites her over for a few pieces of chocolate and she accepts them shyly, eyes huge as they stare at Louis unblinkingly.

“It's alright,” Harry smiles kindly at her. “He won't bite,” he adds, throwing a glance at Louis who gives him one back that clearly says, “I'll get you for that.”

All in all, it's a great day, and Harry doesn't miss his family once.

“Please stay,” he whispers later when the light of the fire has dimmed somewhat and they're alone again, spread out on the fluffy carpet.

“People will talk,” Louis murmurs.

“There's no people,” Harry points out. “No one will know you sleep here.”

Louis looks incredibly unsure of it all, but Harry starts by kissing his neck, moving up his throat and along his jaw to quietly whisper in his hear. "Come to bed."

If Louis had resisted, Harry was ready to allow it and admire his dedication to secrecy, but he actually just twists where they're sat, pinning Harry down and kissing him firmly before getting up, dragging him up like he weighs nothing at all, and leads the way upstairs. When the door closes behind them, Louis presses Harry against it and actually lifts him, fingers gripping his thighs, hips pushing in close, pinning him in place.

“Shit...” Harry breathes because he's never really seen Louis use his strength properly but he loves it, being at his mercy like this. Louis licks up his neck, over the bite, and grinds against him teasingly.  
“Want you to fuck me, Harry,” he murmurs in his ear, making Harry groan in surprise.

“You do?” he asks, arms clinging to Louis' shoulders.

“Yeah... You'd do it so well, baby. I know you would. Want you inside of me so badly.”

Harry can't find the words to reply. He's already hard and he knows Louis knows so he just whines and kisses Louis' lips sloppily.

Louis bites Harry's lip teasingly, and Harry wants more, wants to feel the sharp pain followed by the perfect intimacy of last night, but he can't ask yet. Maybe in the middle of things again.

He wraps his legs around Louis' waist just before he's lifted, carried over to the bed and dropped against the covers, pulling Louis down with him.

So many thoughts race through his mind as Louis spreads him out and makes his way under his clothes. There are so many things he wants to do, and feel, and say to this wonderful boy, but he thinks it might be enough with the way Louis' looking at him, like he can read every fear and hope in his eyes as they flutter past.

Maybe that's why Louis doesn't ask for Harry to do anything, or be anything other than what he is, just letting him lie there with glassy eyes as Louis straddles him and begins to open himself up with long, pale fingers.

Harry tries to keep track of everything, from the little hitches in Louis' breath to the way his eyes fall closed when he manages something perfectly. It's beautifully obscene, and Harry can't understand why they waited so long to do something like this.

"Can I...?" Harry asks quietly, breaking the silence that was only broken by the small sounds Louis makes when he breaths out, reaching a hand up to his hip to carefully ask. Nodding, Louis takes his hand, guiding him slowly to take over.

He's tight and hot, Harry's fingers just barely slipping inside the ring of muscles, but Louis knows how to relax, and he sighs in satisfaction when Harry starts fucking him slowly, carefully scissoring his fingers to stretch him out. And when he goes deep enough, he finds Louis' prostate, just a small bump for the tip of his finger to reach, but it makes Louis gasp and his muscles clench sweetly.

It's amazing to see how a small part of Louis can encourage his whole body to move, soft skin moving in the half light. To know Harry is doing that by slowly pushing further into him and teasing him is one of the best feelings he's had. There's a trust that he wasn't even aware could be shared.

Louis shifts down against him, taking him deeper and encouraging him to keep going. If he hadn't, Harry's sure he'd have skipped the actual sex just in favour of this. One day, he will. He'll manage to just keep doing this for long enough that it will overwhelm Louis.

But now is not that day.

Louis unwraps the condom with his teeth. Harry finds it unbearably hot. And Louis doesn't stop being amazing for even a second as he reaches behind himself for Harry's cock, stroking it a few times before rolling the condom on with one slick hand movement. Harry's fingers are still inside him as Louis uses more lube, more gentle squeezes of his fingers to spur him on, and Harry doesn't protest when Louis rises on his knees to position himself above him, a lazy half-smile playing on his lips.

"Ready, babe?"

Harry nods shakily, never having been more ready for anything in his life, and is frozen in place, barely even breathing, when Louis slowly lowers himself onto Harry, keeping eye contact the whole time.

It feels even more amazing than last night, and Harry has to be careful not to push up into him, even though every part of him wants to. Louis' skin is flushed, eyes bright and that same, secret smile on his face, and he's so beautiful Harry could almost cry, if that wouldn't be utterly embarrassing.

Once he's settled, resting heavily on Harry's hips, he leans down and kisses him, smiling as he teasingly rolls his hips before they can pull apart. Harry lets out a whimper, gripping Louis' thighs hard and feels the muscles there, so frighteningly in control as he moves again, precise and calculated – measured.

“Please...” Harry whispers. “Please, Louis.”

And Louis' smile widens, his back arching artfully as his whole body grinds down, then up, and he doesn't hold anything back when he starts fucking Harry in earnest, tilting his head back to moan.

Harry can't think of anything except how beautiful Louis is, how amazing it feels to have this boy above him, treading the careful line between being in control and letting himself go.

He tries to meet each movement, pushing up into Louis, still stunned at what's happening, how shameless Louis is in how he moves, focused entirely on the pleasure of things without being concerned about his looks. It only adds to his perfection, making Harry incredibly aware of the small sounds they're both making, how Louis isn't even trying to be quiet.

When he leans forward, bracing one hand against Harry's chest just to be able to touch himself with the other, Harry thinks he might be going insane with lust. Louis looks so incredibly obscene.

"I'm close," Harry whispers, digging his fingers into Louis' hips.

"I know," Louis pants back.

"Bite me."

Louis stares at him like he's just made a completely disturbing request, and maybe he has, but he knows they both want it, really.

"Are you-"

"I'm sure," Harry cuts him off, smiling and leaning his head back against the sheets, showing his neck invitingly. Louis sighs, swears quietly, and leans closer, breath ghosting over his skin for just a moment before he closing his lips over him and Harry feels the sharp pain of teeth sinking into him.

Their movements get out of synch and Harry scratches Louis' back so hard it will probably bleed, but they come at the same time just from the thrill of it, the danger and the undeniable pleasure.

Louis pulls off just as Harry comes down from his orgasm, and it feels strangely satisfying to see him wipe the blood from his mouth, eyelids hooded and fangs still visible between his reddened lips.

Harry smiles a little, laughing weakly and raising a hand to sluggishly check the area Louis had chosen to drink from, coming back with rich liquid on his fingers. Reaching out slowly, he lifts his hand to Louis' lips, entranced to see him gently lick the blood from him like a small animal. There's nothing threatening about him, he's practically a kitten.

"Good?" Louis asks, lips still pressed to Harry's fingers, and it's all Harry can do to nod, eyes wide and happy.

Louis hums, ducking down to lick more blood from the wound, and Harry guesses that it helps to close it up, and heal it unnaturally quickly. Louis' tongue is so soft against his skin that he feels lulled into sleep, only opening his eyes briefly when Louis finally rises and cleans the rest of him.

And even if Louis has powers Harry can't even imagine, he's still the small one, and he doesn't protest when Harry curls around him, tucking him close to his chest. He isn't afraid, and he doesn't think he ever could be. Louis' the gentlest person he knows.

"Goodnight, Louis," Harry whispers, feeling thrilled to have him so close.

"Night, Harry."

The next two weeks pass way too quickly, and Harry feels caught off guard when the horseless carriages suddenly turn up loaded with students coming back from their holiday. Christmas had been a quiet affair for Harry and Louis, and it hadn't so much been about the day as it had been about spending time together where no one could judge them for it. Louis had slept in Harry's bed every night and they'd made love more times than Harry could really count, so wrapped up in each other that they'd barely noticed time passing at all.

Harry reluctantly lets Louis go greet his Slytherin friends, and remains on top of the stairs to look for the Gryffindors, feeling surprisingly nervous about seeing them again.

Niall drops his bags by the doors and runs up to him, latching on and laughing happily while Liam and Zayn take their time, Liam loudly complaining at Niall for abandoning his possessions.

It's easy to hug Niall back, to fall into this routine, but he still feels weird about it, about how he was waiting to greet his friends who have been at home with their families while he stayed back to fuck the hottest boy in school.

"So..." Niall raises his eyebrows, drawing the syllable out long enough to be suggestive and questioning, and Harry just blushes. “Did you do it?”

Harry nods, smiling shyly and taking one of the bags Liam hands him, just to have something to do.

“Like, all the way?” Niall presses as Harry tries to greet his other friends.

“Yes, just, shut up.”

“I wanna know who did who!”

“If you're talking about what I think you're talking about...” Zayn interrupts.

“Let him finish,” Niall shushes him.

"Can we, like, talk about it somewhere that isn't on the stairs surrounded by students?" Harry asks awkwardly, blushing so hard he can feel his face burning.

"Alright, but you're not let off yet, Styles," Niall tells him, firm tone losing all form of intimidation against his bright expression as he leads the way up towards the common room.

Glancing back, Harry sees Louis talking to Stan, both looking a little defensive, and wishes he could go over to back up whatever Louis' saying. But it isn't his fight, and he knows Louis wouldn't want him there, wouldn't _need_ him.

So he trots after his friends all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and helps to carry the bags into their dorm, sitting on his bed as the others start unpacking. They tell him about their Christmases while Harry nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt, wondering what Louis is doing and if Stan is still mad.

Niall eventually comes over and bounces onto the bed before jumping right off it again and looks at it with suspicion. Harry had actually changed the sheets a few hours earlier, but he still feels worried that he's managed to forget something.

"Is it okay to sit here? Am I gonna, like, catch the Slytherin gay?"

Harry laughs, glad Niall's around to relieve the tension, and hits him with a pillow.

“Don't be an arse,” he tells him, pulling him down to sit.

“Speaking of which,” Niall says cheerily, and Harry lets himself fall back against the sheets, covering his face with another pillow to hide his red cheeks.

“Alright,” he sighs, voice muffled. “What do you want to know?”

“Did he fuck you?”

“Yes.”

"But did you fuck him?"

"Ever the careful speaker, is our Niall," Liam comments across the room.

"Yes."

"Woah... Like, at the same-"

"No!" Harry kicks out at him blindly, glad to hit something solid until he realises it was the bed post. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because our little boy is all grown up, we have to check you're being safe," Zayn teased, walking over to ruffle Harry's hair.

"Gay sex is so weird, man," Niall muses.

"It's not weird," Harry protests. "Straight sex is weird. Although," he adds gleefully, "you wouldn't know."

"Neither would you!"

"And I don't want to!"

"Seriously, Harry," Liam interrupts. "Are you a couple now then?"

This has Harry sobering up immediately. "Um, not exactly," he replies.

"How do you mean not exactly?" Liam's quickly adopting the parental voice he uses when one of them is doing something he thinks needs mature attention.

"Well, we're still not telling anyone. So his dad doesn't find out. But we spent, like, all holiday together."

"Did you ever talk about your relationship?"

"No. Not really much point. We'll just see how it goes." Harry tries to sound more casual than he feels, if only so Liam will stop worrying.

"But you love him," Niall states, frowning, as if he doesn't at all understand. "Doesn't he love you?"

"I-I don't..." Harry stutters, suddenly feeling trapped and uncomfortably hot all over. "I don't know," he forces himself to admit.

"What? Why don't you know?" Niall sounds like he's just heard his parents aren't going to work out as a unit, and it's almost tragic. Harry looks away, sighing deeply.

"I just don't, okay? We haven't discussed it. I haven't said anything, he hasn't declared anything to me."

“But you've, like, been inside each other.”

“Niall, just...” Harry doesn't know what to say. For the first time since he met Louis, he is scared, because he fell so hard and so fast that he never had time to stop and think about how Louis felt. He'd told him romance was for idiots. He'd been so clear about that from the start.

"Hey, Harry, come on, don't cry on me," Niall pleads, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rocking him a little. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know," Harry manages a weak smile, leaning against Niall gratefully and staring out of the window a little sadly. "I don't know what made me think it was going so well. We've barely talked about anything serious."

"Ask, then," Liam tells him, like it's that simple.

"What if I lose him?" Harry asks back, and the question hangs in the air heavily, making the room seem small and suffocating. No one dares to say that it would be just as well, that Harry deserves better. They all know he doesn't give a shit about that.

Harry sleeps badly that night. He's not used to sleeping without Louis any more, and he keeps tossing and turning, yearning to feel Louis' soft, cold skin pressed to his own. The marks on his neck are fading, and he hates it. He wants to be able to feel them underneath his fingertips.

If anyone notices the marks and mistakes them for the easy pull of blood to the surface without breaking skin, Harry isn't asked.

However, people do keep looking at him, whispering and swerving around him in the corridor, which is helpful enough but leaves Harry convinced he's managed to do something wrong. He tries asking the boys at breakfast, but they can't think of anything he's done to cause school-wide upset.

Louis isn't at the Slytherin table but Harry isn't surprised. Louis doesn't eat breakfast unless he absolutely has to, far too content to spend the mornings sleeping until his first class.

It's when they're walking outdoors to Herbology that Harry hears a whispers, a proper word spoken just behind him as he leaves the Great Hall. "Fag", someone mutters, and he hears laughter, and wonders if it's for him.

It keeps on throughout the day, a few laughs in his direction, but then people stop giving him space in corridors and start crowding him, pushing roughly past even if there's plenty of space to avoid contact.

By the time lunch rolls around, Harry's feeling somewhere between distressed and tearful, quietly asking Zayn and Niall to move so he can sit between them rather than on the end, needing the surrounded safety of his friends.

"I don't know what's happening," he whispers, shuffling his food around aimlessly. "Am I wearing a sign or something?"

"I'm sure it's nothing," Niall tries to comfort him. "People are just being dicks 'cause it's the first day of school."

"But they keep... whispering stuff."

"Because you're an easy target, Harry. They know you won't fight back."

But it keeps happening all through the afternoon, and when Harry leaves Charms just before dinner, he's never been happier to see Louis in his life as when he's striding down the corridor towards him. That is until he sees the look on his face.

"Who did you tell?" Louis is growling at him, pushing him into a nook so as not to be seen. Harry wonders vaguely if the boys will notice that he's not behind them anymore.

"What?"

"Who did you tell about us?" Louis asks again, pushing Harry into the stone with enough force that the cold is seeping through his clothes and he isn't sure he could actually move if he tried. A part of him is genuinely scared, the other is reaching out, trying to soothe Louis with gentle touches.

"I haven't... They wouldn't say anything."

"Obviously they have."

"They haven't." He manages to find a weight in his voice, a defiance that seems to soften something in Louis' face.

"People know," he states, eyes narrowing. "Everybody knows. Have you heard what they're saying behind our backs, Harry? Do you have any idea what people think?"

"My friends would never do that," Harry insists, pushing Louis' hands off of him. Louis allows it, and Harry goes on. "But you broke someone's heart, remember? You hurt him."

"What?" Louis breathes.

"Stan. Stan told everyone, Louis."

"Wait. Stan wouldn't... That _fucker_." Louis steps back, away from Harry enough that he can fix his uniform. "I can't believe he did that."

"It had to be," Harry nods, feeling a little bad for Louis and irritated at Stan for ruining things.

"We have to know. Come on." Louis takes his hand, and drags Harry down the corridor, apparently not caring who sees them since the secret is already out.

"No, Louis, stop," Harry tries, making him turn around with a frown. "It doesn't change anything."

"Of course it does."

"No," Harry shakes his head, "it doesn't. Look, I get it if you're ashamed of me, and I'm sorry I made this happen..."

"Harry..."

"Just, I don't want to punish anyone. Stan was upset, and I don't blame him."

"But we can still fix this," Louis insists. They've stopped again, and the corridor is empty, everyone having run down to dinner. It's quiet, serene even, with cold winter sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, painting the stones a pale grey underneath their feet. Louis' skin is shimmering, his eyes sparkling as he looks up.

"No," Harry sighs and tries to hold Louis' gaze, but Louis isn't looking at Harry's face anymore. His eyes have drifted to his neck and he doesn't seem to be listening.

Harry pauses, not sure how to react to Louis' shift of attention. If he moves too much there's a chance Louis will jump for him.

"Louis..."

"Mmn?" Louis hums, not really answering, focused on Harry's skin, slowly leaning forward as his fangs begin to show, a hunger in his eyes that Harry isn't sure how to combat in such a public area.

"Louis, stop." Backing up a little, Harry puts out his hands, ready to try to hold him off if he gets too close.

But Louis clearly isn't hearing a single word. It all happens so quickly that Harry doesn't have time to react. One moment he's watching Louis' face, and the other Louis is pulling back, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. The pain doesn't hit until it's already over, and Harry realises confusedly that he's grown hard and the sight of Louis licking his lips isn't helping.

"Fuck..." Louis breathes, long and full of dread, his eyes wide and scared as he finally looks Harry in the eyes.

"Don't apologise," Harry says weakly because he doesn't think he can stand Louis beating himself up over this as well. He's given his permission. He's invited him in, in every way he could have.

"But I just had my dose," Louis whispers. "This morning. I shouldn't be hungry."

"I don't care," Harry sighs, sincere and tired, a bone deep exhaustion having crept over him, no doubt fuelled by the blood loss but helping to paint the world with clearer lines, all in black and white, for this short moment. "I don't care if everyone knows, or if your dad finds out, or if you're addicted- No, Louis, look at me. If you're addicted to my blood. I love you." He reaches out then, fingers wrapping around Louis' neck, thumb stroking his ear. "And I don't think you'd feel like this if you didn't love me back."

Louis looks at him for a moment, clearly struggling with all that Harry has told him, and the situation they're in. But then he smiles, softening back into soft curves and gentle touches rather than the predator they both know he has the ability to become.

"You love me?" he asks quietly, hands curling into the fabric of Harry's robes at his hips.

"Yeah, idiot. Of course I do."

"And you're not scared of me? Not even now?"

"I was never scared of you, Louis Tomlinson," Harry states seriously. "Because you have never tried to hurt me."

"I really don't want to," Louis replies quietly, tuning to nuzzle into Harry's hand. "But I don't think I'm aware of my own limits."

"Then we'll find out," Harry promises.

"My parents might throw me out."

"But that wouldn't be your fault. I'm not saying it's not terrible, but you'll never be alone. You're too loved for that."

"Bloody Gryffindors," Louis mutters, but there's a smile playing on his lips, a fondness in the way he nibbles on Harry's knuckle.

"Maybe this is the day when you're ready."

"Yeah, maybe," Louis steps closer, risking a light press of lips and resting their foreheads together. "So, wise Harry, what do we do now?"

"Now? It's dinner time, and we're Hogwarts students who've had a stressful day. So let's go to dinner and eat more than we realistically should," Harry grins, intertwining their fingers and feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of just walking into the hall as a couple, uncaring of what their peers might think.

"You know," Louis says as Harry pulls him along down the echoing corridor, "I think you might just be the most brilliantly foolish boy I've ever met."

"Well," Harry smiles, "I am a Gryffindor for a reason."

And as he sees the glint of mischief and challenge in Louis' eyes, the worry slipping so quickly from his face because he just can't stay still long enough for it to stick, he wonders if Louis wouldn't have felt at home in Gryffindor too. But he supposes that not all children know they have a choice. Not all children realise their own courage or importance, but maybe it's not too late for them to make these choices now. Maybe it never will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://evelynegrey.tumblr.com/
> 
> http://genderqueerharrystyles.tumblr.com/


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